


A Dragon’s Treasure

by BuckyAboveEverything



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arranged Marriage, BAMF Tony Stark, Dragon Tony Stark, Dragons, Everyone lives, Fantasy, Happy Ending, Identity Porn, Love at First Sight, M/M, Magic, Misunderstandings, Nobody Dies, Pining, Prince Tony Stark, Royalty, Secret Identity, Swords & Sorcery, except for the bad guys, king steve rogers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:07:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 51,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26818576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckyAboveEverything/pseuds/BuckyAboveEverything
Summary: “Where’s Tony? I can't leave without him,” Steve said, looking everywhere but at his enormous body and large wings, shimmering with scales of red and gold.Tony exhaled slowly, still amazed by the smoke trickling out of his own nostrils. “Tony - he’s inside.”Steve’s gaze followed the lines of his neck toward his chest, and rested for a few moments on his abdomen, before his bright blue eyes widened in horror. The king drew his sword, and pointed it at Tony.“I didn’t eat him,” Tony hurried to say.  “Tony is fine. Can't explain right now. Besides, I don't think you'll ever believe me.”***King Steven of Valoria and Prince Anthony of Armestria must marry to unite their kingdoms against the wicked Emperor Thanos. With both of them keeping secrets from each other, disaster strikes. Can they fix it before it's too late?
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 112
Kudos: 173





	1. I do.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Serinah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serinah/gifts).



> Hi! 
> 
> If this story sounds familiar, it's because I posted a couple of chapters about half a year ago. =p 
> 
> I had to take it down to do a rewrite (sorry!), and it took way longer than expected, but it's all done now! The story is complete and will be edited as it’s posted. I’m hoping to post a new chapter every ten days or so. :)
> 
> Thank you to Serinah for beta reading this story! Thank you to AvengersNewB for the cheering and encouragement! You girls are the best! 💕

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A match is made! 
> 
> There are a few countries mentioned, so here are some notes which will hopefully help us keep track of them...
> 
> Valoria (Kingdom of the Brave):  
> Notable citizens include: Steve, Bucky, Sam, Bruce, Clint, Natalia (after defection) 
> 
> Armestria (Kingdom of weapons / arms) - Tony's nation  
> Notable citizens include: Tony, Rhodey, Peter, Strange 
> 
> Anguisia (Hydra's constellation) - Thanos' nation  
> Notable citizens include: Thanos and his children

Steve watched the eagles soaring in the sky, executing the well-choreographed dives of their courting ritual, finally vanishing behind _Dracarex Hylls_ , the chain of volcanoes which bordered their neighbours in the north.

The fiery peaks rested like the spikes of a great beast, one who’d fallen into a restless sleep. Squinting to keep out the midday sun, Steve’s eyes traced over the towering mountains in the east toward the squat hills in the west, curling back around like a tail.

South of the range, Valoria bloomed in a rainbow of colours. Reddish-orange earth gave rise to yellow fields and lush greens. Fish washed up daily on cerulean shores. And the sun-kissed highlands lay carpeted all year in the purples of heather, lavender, sage.

Armestria, her neighbour in the north, shimmered with silver and gleamed with gold. And when sunlight bounced off her land, it sparkled with the light of precious jewels, like mystical gifts from the gods.

While the mountains of Armestria were troves of treasure, it was iron ore that her people mined in large volumes. Expert craftsmen toiled in the furnaces, smelting the metal for steel, which they used to forge swords, shields and armour – the finest weapons in the world.

From where he stood, Steve could hear the sounds of a hundred pairs of boots, marching around the mountains, in time with the drumming of his heart. Valoria was soon to be home to these warriors, their brothers-in-arms.

And one of them was going to be his husband.

“You don’t have to do this,” a soft voice spoke, pulling him back to the present.

Steve looked into a pair of worried blue eyes. “Of course, I do. War is on its way. Men are ready to lay down their lives. I’ve got no right to do any less.”

His mother smoothed over his windswept hair, resting her soft hand against his cheek. “This isn’t the same,” she said, her voice laced with concern. “Steve, this is your life. This is your happiness.”

Steve’s reply was already on his lips, and the practised words rolled smoothly off his tongue. “This is my duty. I’m not going to run from it.”

“Neither will Armestria. Just like us, they can't afford to lose this war. The weapons will be delivered, with or without a wedding. You know that.”

“I do,” he said, well aware of King Howard’s mixed feelings regarding the alliance. He’d heard stories about how protective the king was, how Prince Anthony rarely left the castle and if he did, was never without his banner of trusted knights.

“But the prince is staying, to help us. He will need a home. And I – we can give him one.”

“You’re sure then?”

“I am,” he said. If King Howard was sending them the crown prince, his only child and heir, watching over him seemed like the very least he could do.

Sarah conceded defeat, accepting the outcome of this personal battle. For once a Rogers man had decided on something, be it a battle plan or life partner, they never changed their minds. “You’re a righteous king, Steve. And soon, you’ll be a loving husband.”

“I learnt from the best,” Steve said, taking her hand in his as they shared a moment remembering his late father.

Sarah patted his hand with a mix of pride and regret. “I wish Joseph were here.”

“Father died with honour and glory. For Valoria.”

“For Valoria,” Sarah echoed, allowing Steve to kiss her cheek and straighten the sleeve of her gossamer gown. He took her arm, leading her to the shade of a birch tree, where she could wait more comfortably.

Steve could already hear Clint on his fiddle, which meant his friends had got started on the spirits. Approaching them, he could make out the familiar melody and the words. They were singing the cursed song. Again.

_Who's strong and brave, here to save the Valorian way?_

_Who vows to fight like a king for what's right, night and day?_

_Who will indeed lead the call for Valoria?_

_Who'll rise or fall, give his all for Valoria?_

_Who’s here to show that we can?_

_The shield-wielding king and his friends!_

Resting his hands on his hips, Steve waited for them to finish, trying to keep a straight face. In return, they ignored his expression of disapproval, going on to the next verse, this time focused on his husband-to-be.

_Who's strong and brave, here to save the Armestrian way?_

_Who vows to fight like a prince for what's right, night and day?_

_Who will indeed lead the call for Armestria?_

_Who'll rise or fall, give his all for Armestria?_

_Who's loved, revered and adored?_

_The sword-forging lord with a hoard!_

Despite the giggles, they made it through the verse, finally falling under the tall oak into a heap of chuckles. Amidst the laughter, Clint groaned. “I broke something.”

“A carrot,” Natalia informed him, offering the broken halves to their horses. They made for a sight – a tangle of arms and legs, armour and weapons, but a wiser man was not to be fooled. These singing fools were the finest warriors south of the _Dracarex Hylls_.

“That’s it,” Steve said, raising his voice above the ruckus. “You’re crazy. My knights. The most celebrated warriors in the kingdom. And all of you are mad.”

Natalia was the first to rise. “Say what you want about us. We're not the ones marrying a complete stranger."

Bucky turned to look at her. "Would you?" he asked, getting to his feet, "marry a stranger?" 

Nat didn't answer. "Would you," she asked in a low voice, a soft smile playing on her lips.

"Yes," he said, "if they're as pretty as you, because you're really pretty when you smile." 

A laugh escaped her lips before she could recover and keep a straight face. “And when I don’t?”

“Devastatingly beautiful,” he told her, without missing a beat.

Sam shook his head. “Smooth,” he muttered. 

“Wow,” Natalia said, her eyes twinkling with mirth. “I hope you fight better than you flirt.

“You’ve fought me. I won, remember?”

“You can't be serious. I dropped my sword to keep you from falling off the cliff." 

“Still counts,” he said. “I disarmed you.” 

“Mention that again and I’ll disarm you for real,” she said, playfully making a slicing motion at his left shoulder. 

“Devastatingly beautiful,” Bucky repeated, as he placed a hand over his shoulder, right where Nat's hand had been.

With a soft sigh, Steve took his leave, heading toward the rock formation in search of peace and quiet, with Bucky and Nat’s voices fading behind him. They were at it again, teasing each other like an old married couple. And while it was usually cute, today it was only making him more nervous about meeting his new husband.

Resting his legs on a large rock, Steve got out his knife and the conical object, whittling it down to streamline its shape. The quintessential child's toy, a spinning top, had long delighted children of all cultures, and Steve was no different. Time always seemed to stop as it spun, defying gravity to stay upright, as if by magic. Besides, it gave his hands something to do and always seemed to slow his racing heart.

Steve put down his knife to brush away the wooden shavings from the top, with a wider body and a shorter peg this time. A quick twist and the spinner was twirling on its point, in a dizzying, mesmerising dance. He counted the seconds that passed - _105, 106, 107,_ before it lost its momentum, staggering on the last of its revolutions, before resting on its side. 

_107 seconds. Not bad - but not quite enough._

It was an obsession, perhaps, his aspiration of creating the perfect spinner, one which would defy the forces of nature to spin forever, as if in an eternal dance of joy. His friends had called him a dreamer, but even the most beautiful stars had once been rocks that never gave up on their dreams to rise.

He'd have to try again, use the lodestones that Bruce had brought him the next time to create a force field. Steve sighed at the thought of his dear friend missing his wedding, because he'd been looking quite green in the face just before they'd set off on their journey. It had only been a few days, but Steve was already beginning to miss his calm presence and wise counsel, something he desperately needed at the moment. 

Rockhenge was an unusual venue for a royal wedding, but a terribly significant choice. A monument to honour fallen warriors on both sides of the war, it was a covenant between Armestria and Valoria to be a united force through good and bad times.

And, they had fallen on bad times indeed.

Dressed in mismatched armour, none of his knights looked like they were attending a wedding, but on their way to battle. And it made sense. They were gathered not to celebrate love, but to arm themselves for the coming war.

Steve used to dream of marrying for love, like his own parents had. But people couldn’t always have what they wanted, not when the fate of the universe lay in their hands, not when war was at their shores. As far as political marriages went, Steve reckoned he was fortunate enough.

For years, he’d heard the stories of Prince Anthony, how clever, brave and kind he was. If there was some measure of truth in half of those tales, he supposed they would get along.

Steve brushed away the perspiration trickling down his temples, wondering if the prince liked puddles, because he was about to melt into a giant pool. Then, a familiar arm was around his shoulder, holding him together. He didn’t even have to look up. “Bucky,” he sighed, leaning into the touch.

“I don’t see what the problem is. You, my friend, are about to marry the most desirable man in Armeria.”

Steve shrugged. “It’s an alliance. This arrangement here - it isn’t about me.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Right. It isn’t. You’re just half of it.”

“Buck,” he protested, hating the sound of his own voice.

“Okay, fine. It’s an alliance. So, treat it as one. The prince is bringing along his inventions, his weapons, his men, and they will help us win the war. We’ll take care of him, treat him as family.”

“I know. We’ll do that. But what if...” Steve said, trailing off.

“What if?”

“What if he doesn’t like me?” he muttered.

Bucky laughed. “Thought this arrangement wasn’t about you?” he teased, fondly. “Why wouldn’t he like you?” he asked, softly this time.

“I don’t know,” Steve said, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve been told I’m headstrong, overbearing and sometimes, a bit dumb.”

“Sometimes?” Sam snorted, appearing from behind.

Bucky shot the other knight a glare, cupping Steve’s cheek to get his attention. “Hey, look at me,” he said. “You’re the youngest king in the history of our kingdom, the first to be elected by unanimous vote. That means something. It means - you’re special.”

“Special,” Steve echoed, his voice hollow. “Everything special about me came out of a bottle. All this,” he muttered bitterly as he gestured to his body, “is the result of the super warrior potion. I’m nothing without it,” he spat.

Sam took a seat on his left. “The potion amplifies everything that is inside. So, good becomes great. Bad becomes worse. Even without the potion, you’d still be somewhere between – amazing and incredible.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed, reminding him of recent events. “When we were captured, you went behind enemy lines to rescue us. Sam, me – all of us - we’re alive today because of you. And when the dreadnought threatened to crash on our shores, you commandeered their ship and sank it to the bottom of the ocean, with nary a thought for your life.”

Sam nodded. “We live in a nation full of great men and women. And you’re the best of us. The prince is going to love you and both of you are going to get along just fine. All right?”

“Thanks, guys,” he rasped around the lump in his throat.

Bucky put his hands around Steve’s face, resting his cool forehead against Steve’s. “Are we good now?” he asked.

“Yeah. We are.”

“Great,” Sam said. “Because if you talk shit about our best friend again, king or not, we’re going to smite you.”

Steve chortled, his loud laughter causing Nat to turn and look at them in concern. Bucky winked and gave her a quick wave of reassurance.

“It’s nice,” Steve said.

Bucky raised his brows. “What?” he asked.

“Nat and you.”

Bucky stiffened. “There is no _Nat and me_. My loyalty is to you and our kingdom. I took an oath,” Bucky said, his tone defensive. 

“It’s okay, Buck. No one is breaking any laws. All you have to do is ask. You already know my answer. Nat is not the most open person in the world, but she’s different with you.” 

Bucky turned his head evasively. “No, Nat, she – she likes to flirt.”

“ _You_ like to flirt,” Sam said, correcting him. “But this thing that you both do - you're like albatrosses, dancing around each other in some sort of weird courtship ritual. They mate for life, by the way." 

“What?” Bucky said, looking scandalised. 

“You might as well make your move,” Sam said. “Now that someone is volunteering to take Steve off our hands.” 

Steve shot Sam a withering smile as he patted Bucky’s back. “Don’t wait too long,” was all he said.

They conversed some more, jesting around until the sound of marching footsteps drowned out their laughter, reminding them of the imminent arrival of their allies, right before the auspicious hour.

It was happening. He was getting married. _Married_. To Prince Anthony.

From his position, right in front of their billowing flags, Steve could see the king and queen exiting the royal carriage. They were waving at the crowd, but Steve recognised the grim expressions they wore. It was the same look on every parent’s face as they sent a child to the camps, where young children were baptised in the fire of combat, learning that death on the battlefield was the greatest glory. One would return from the camps Valorian.

Or not at all.

And it was to this life that they were sending their only son.

Trumpets blared as their red-and-white banners unfurled in the wind. A herald stepped forward to make the introductions. “His majesty, King Howard. Her majesty, Queen Maria.”

Bucky completed the introductions. “His majesty, King Steven. Her majesty, Queen Sarah, our beloved Queen Mother.”

Howard extended his hand. “Steven, we finally meet. For years, we’ve been enthralled by your legend, regaled by tales of your honour, bravery and sacrifice.”

“Thank you,” Steve said, going for that tiny grey area between confidence and modesty. “You must know that the accounts of battles are often embellished.”

The queen held out her hand, which he kissed in greeting. “We know that the valiant efforts of you and your warriors have kept our flags flying on our soil.”

“Thank you,” he said, acknowledging the truth behind her words. Bordered by impenetrable mountains on the north, east and west, Armestria was vulnerable only in the south, where Valoria stood. So long as Valoria kept the invaders at bay, Armestria would be out of harm's way.

“Have you lost many?” she asked.

“No, not many,” Steve assured her. “Still, each of the fallen is a friend, our dearest blood. Thank you for coming forward in our time of need. Anguisia's empire continues to grow by the day and their ambition has no bounds.”

A sorrowful look came over Howard's face. "It was different in the reign of the King Max. He was a fair and kind ruler, who strongly opposed cruelty, even if it was justified. It is unfortunate that Thanos does not share the same views."

Steve nodded. "A shame his children were too young to rule."

"Yes," Howard agreed. "Maxwell was very proud of the twins. They must be about seventeen or eighteen now, which is still some time before they reach the requisite ruling age." 

"Prince Ivan would have been a better choice - as regent."

Howard sighed. "I'm not sure about that. While the prince has never spoken of this in public, I understand that he believes I am the cause of his brother's death." 

"The truth will one day come to light," Steve reassured him. "We just have to live long enough to see that it happens." 

"And yet, compared to us mortals, the homo draconi appear to live forever." 

"Indeed they do" 

"Personally, what are your thoughts - regarding them?" Howard asked, looking closely at his face.

"Terrifying, to be honest,” Steve answered, without much a thought. “Having had the misfortune of encountering them in my youth, I generally prefer to steer clear. Still, I know that amongst them, there are those who are righteous and compassionate. As with all things, it's best to keep an open mind." 

Howard nodded, seemingly satisfied with his answer, as the troubled look faded from his face.

"Not Thanos, though," Steve added. 

"No, not him," Howard readily agreed. “For years, your people have forged our freedom in the fires of war. Armestria will no longer watch from the shadows. Together, we will rise and face the monster that shrouds us in darkness. You have our weaponry. You have our cavalry. And, soon, you’ll have the best of us. Anthony, he’s...”

Steve was left to fill in the blanks. _The apple of my eye, light of my life. My beloved child._ Any of those would fit, judging from the sorrowful look in his eyes.

“He’s special,” King Howard finally said. “And we will grieve in his absence. But the oracle, Lord Strange, has spoken. And for some reason, he thinks – our boy is the chosen one.”

“If that is what the Sorcerer says, then it must be.” Steve had never known the man to be wrong.

“I wouldn’t have agreed, had this arrangement been to another monarch. But everyone agrees that this is a good match. And Anthony – this is what he wants.”

 _This is what he wants_. The words echoed in his mind, ringing of promise. For the prince to put aside his freedom for his people, it was no wonder that they adored him.

A head of overgrown curls, adorned with a crown of gold and red rubies, came into sight. He was too far for Steve to make out his features, but from the soft hair, sharp jawline and the curve of his neck, Steve could tell. He was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, blessed with a gentle disposition but a presence so powerful that Steve found himself drawn to him, unable to look away.

The prince made his way toward the party, closely followed by his knight and a younger-looking page. He stopped in front of Steve and flashed him a smile, his luscious pink lips parting to reveal a row of dazzling teeth. Steve stopped dead for a long moment, unable to move. It was only when Prince Anthony pressed his hands together to offer a bow that he snapped into action, lightly touching the prince to stop him. “We don’t do that anymore,” Steve explained.

“Shit,” the prince said, closing his right hand over his mouth. Then, his wide eyes were on Steve’s large hands which were holding his left.

“Oh fuck,” Steve exclaimed, dropping it like it was burning coal.

Laughter erupted around them and the prince glowered at his knight and squire.

“This is Sir Rhodes, my first knight,” the prince said, glaring at the mirthful man, who was struggling to stifle his laughter as he took a bow. “And this is Peter, my cousin, and my page. For now.”

“Sorry, Tony,” the boy named Peter apologised, before turning to Steve. “My apologies, your majesty. I don’t mean any offence. I’m a long-time admirer of your work.”

Steve raised an eyebrow, not quite sure of what he meant. “Killing people?” he asked.

“Yeah. That, too. But also how you run your country. I didn’t expect you to be so attractive. You know, you’re even more handsome in person than in those portraits.”

“Portraits?” Steve asked, confused.

“The ones of you that Tony commis -”

Peter didn’t finish, as the prince coughed loudly, turning red in the face. Then, they were all saved by the bell, indicating that the auspicious hour was upon them.

It was time to stand in a circle around the sacred rock.

While waiting, Steve stole a few glances at the prince, in royal dress, crown on his head. No. This was no man of war. The prince belonged on a throne of plush velvet, where he would be handfed grapes and wine.

He would have gone on gaping if not for the catapult-launched projectile that landed in his mouth, causing him to bite down and choke. On grape juice. Trickling down his chin.

Nat came to his rescue with a handkerchief, glaring daggers at the culprits. Clint, bowed his head, looking suitably chastened, and Bucky just looked away, two spots of pink high on his cheeks.

Steve froze when it was time to say the vows and Sam had to nudge him in the ribs. Thankfully, he’d rehearsed the words so many times that he managed to recite them, once he remembered to speak. He barely looked away from the face of his husband. _Husband_ , he thought with a flutter in his chest. He wondered how the prince of one of the most prosperous nations, was going to fit in with his family, and tolerate their simple ways and coarse manners?

The prince was looking at him expectantly, and Steve was confused. Bucky and Sam jostled for the best position to watch something, but Steve couldn't figure for what. It was Clint and his puckered-up lips, who finally reminded him that it was time for the customary kiss.

It was going to be fine. He’d practised. He just needed to lean over and press his lips against this smaller set of soft, pink pillows. The prince’s warm breath was against his skin and his eyes were already closed.

_Wait. What. No. Too many people. Too soon._

Steve jerked away, and his lips connected with the swell of the prince’s cheek. Gold eyes flew open as Prince Anthony touched the side of his face, his lips spreading into a smile. His large, expressive eyes crinkled up and he threw his head back in a laugh.

It was a sweet, melodious sound, and Steve wished to hear it again. And again. He knew he would do his best to make him laugh like that, every day, for the rest of their lives.

The end of the ceremony was marked by raucous cheers drowning out the soft chiming of bells. Joyful guests mingled over refreshments as they celebrated the union. As the Starks came over to say farewell, the smile faded from Anthony’s face. Steve excused himself, after accepting their heartfelt congratulations, giving them time to say their goodbyes.

He made his way to the horses, offering the juiciest apple from his satchel to his noble steed, before distributing the rest. For a while, he sat on the grass, content to watch the horses munching on their treats. After years of faithful service, Nomad was enjoying a well-deserved retirement. Steve had recently acquired Star, a brown stallion with an easy-going temperament and a diamond mark on his forehead, to take his place. Star nuzzled his nose into Steve’s chest, allowing him to stroke his glossy mane. Steve would do it for hours if he could, loving how it felt between his fingers.

At the sound of a throat being cleared, he looked up to find Prince Anthony looking at him. Steve didn't miss the wet lashes and tear tracks on his cheeks, a stark contrast with the bright smile he wore.

“Your majesty, King Steven, The Super Warrior, Living Legend, Symbol to the Nation, Hero to the World,” Tony recited, pausing to take a quick breath. “Forever may you reign.”

Steve pressed a soft kiss to Star’s forehead and rose to his feet, brushing off his titles like the dirt on his leggings. “I suppose you’d better call me Steve.”

“Steve,” he said, slowly, his teeth lightly grazing his lower lip. “Everyone calls me Tony, so you might as well.”

“Sirs, the carriage is ready,” Sam informed them.

“Oh,” Tony said, not bothering to hide his disappointment. “’We aren't riding on horseback?”

Sam took the chance to inform the prince about their customs. “It’s tradition - for the newlyweds to ride home by carriage, get to know each other better.”

“One can learn a lot about people from the way they ride,” Tony pointed out, looking longingly at the horses.

“Are you a good rider?” Steve asked, considering the request. He was happy to give the prince free rein, but the terrain was challenging at some points

“Rhodey!” Tony called, spying the knight nearby. “The king wants to know if I’m a good rider.”

Rhodes chuckled before answering the question. “Sir, the prince is one of the best riders in the kingdom. You’ll see. He’s got a very impressive seat.”

Steve coughed, dutifully averting his eyes.

“He’s noticed,” Bucky said drily, riding up on Blaze. Addressing Steve, he dropped his voice to a whisper, “It’s a horseriding term. No need to get all flustered, even if your new husband is very fetching.”

Tony turned to the horses. “Why the long face? Don’t want to pull the carriage?” The horse he was talking to let out a soft whinny, to which Tony responded, “Neigh? Right, I’ll tell the king.” He turned to Steve. “Did you hear that? Nay. Straight from the horse’s mouth.”

Steve bit back a grin, secretly pleased that of all the horses, Tony had singled out the one he’d chosen for him. He turned to the riders. “We ride on horseback,” he said.

Tony let out a whoop of joy and the others cheered, happy to go along with the change of plans.

Steve handed over the reins to Tony. "This is - ah - my wedding gift for you," he told him, shyly.

Tony’s eyes widened with surprise, then delight. “Of course, a horse! To celebrate a stable relationship. A stallion though? Thought you’d get me a mare for getting mare-ried!” he said, giggling at his joke.

Steve laughed along. “It’s one of our traditions,” he explained. “It supposed to represent the start of a new journey - together.”

Tony let out a happy sigh. “I love your traditions.”

“And now they’re yours too,” he told him, softly.

“What did you name yours?” Tony asked, referring to Star.

When Steve told him, Tony's eyes brightened before settling on the name Stripe. “Star and Stripe,” he mused. “I don’t know. I kinda like that.”

Steve nodded. He really liked it too. They mounted their horses, making their way toward the front of the cavalcade when Tony pulled Stripe to an abrupt stop.

“Is that – Is that a giant bird?” he asked, as he gaped. “Oh my God. That is a giant falcon,” he said. “It must be nice to fly,” Tony mused enviously as Sam climbed onto Redwing.

Steve smiled at him, recalling his own excitement the first time he'd met Redwing.

On the sounding of horns, the riders were off.

It was a fine day for riding. The afternoon sun had mellowed and a cool breeze had blown in. At first, Tony had been content to ride beside him, but by the time they were almost through the meadows, Tony had picked up the pace, occasionally pulling away from the rest of the group.

Steve waved at Bucky to take over. He was going after his husband, who had smiled broadly at him in invitation, before galloping off for the woods. Steve grinned at the unspoken challenge as he went in pursuit. Tony was already steering Stripe through the foliage, deeper into the forest.

In the dense vegetation, Steve lost sight of him a number of times, relying only on the sporadic sound of a cracking branch or a soft chuckle to know he was near. Several times, he got close but Tony always managed to elude him. Steve was amused. And proud. It was a test. Tony wanted to see what he was made of.

He was going to show him.

Tony was clever, but he was on Valorian soil, and Steve knew Conewood Forest like the back of his hand. He didn't take long to chase him past the wisterias to the edge of a cliff, forcing the prince to stop and dismount.

Steve led the hardworking horses to a brook so they could quench their thirst. He filled a wooden canteen with cold, fresh water and offered some to Tony, who was busy making himself comfortable under a blooming tree.

“You caught me,” Tony said, a hint of awe in his voice. “No one’s ever done that before.”

Steve sank down beside him, leaning his back against the trunk. “You had me riding around in circles. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to run away.

“Running away? From you? Now, why would I do that?” he asked, with a twinkle in his eye. “But did you just leave our people behind just to come after me? Because that seems terribly, terribly irresponsible.”

Steve shrugged. “You’re my responsibility too,” he said.

Tony looked surprised. “Am I now?” he asked.

“Yes. It was part of my vows. Weren’t you listening?”

A bashful smile was on his lips. “I was distracted,” Tony said.

Steve laughed at the admission, relieved he hadn’t been the only one. “You mean them, don’t you? The vows?” he asked, because he had to be sure.

Tony shot him a look, before schooling his face into a more serious expression. “I do,” he said, solemnly, like he was repeating the vows, once more. The teasing smile was back on his face in an instant. “You owe me a kiss,” he complained, “A proper one. Otherwise, the marriage won’t hold up.”

“Can’t have that, can we?” Steve asked, trying not to get lost in his gold-brown eyes.

“Nope,” Tony said, meeting his gaze. “All our people are depending on it.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, leaning in and pressing his lips against Tony’s open mouth. The contact was short but electrifying, and Steve felt like he’d been set alight, as the warmth spread from his lips to his cheeks and the rest of his body.

It was magic.

For some time, they watched the sunset from the cliff. Steve wished they could linger, but the light was fading and it would soon get chilly. They had to catch up to the cavalcade, and make camp for the night.

He got to his feet, dusting himself off. “If we leave now, I could lead the way, show you all of our best views.”

Tony raised a brow. “Your best views, eh?” he teased, and Steve had to bite back a laugh when he caught Tony looking at his rear. “Or you know what? We could race,” he suggested, his eyes lighting up.

Steve took Tony’s hand and pulled him to his feet. “Why?” he asked. “In a hurry to get to our tent?”

Tony gasped with mock indignation. “As much as I appreciate your unbridled enthusiasm, I’ve done more than enough riding for the day. All ready to hit the hay. That’s all.”

“Ah,” Steve found himself saying, as he mounted his horse, both relieved and disappointed.

“If I win, I want another kiss,” Tony said, climbing onto Stripe.

Steve grinned. “And if I do?” he asked, interested.

“You won’t,” Tony said, confidently. “But if you catch me,” he added, biting down on his bottom lip. “You can have anything you want.”

Steve had to take a deep breath to calm himself. “Sounds fair,” he said.

It was a long ride, the first of many in their journey together. He was about to mention it, but the prince had already gone. Steve laughed. Then, with a pull of the reins and a click of his tongue, he went after his husband.

They were going home. 


	2. This is Valoria!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Tony arrive at Shieldberg and Tony learns more about Steve and his new country. They receive a message from Emperor Thanos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Here is the second installment of the story. I’ve added more details about Tony’s backstory. Thank you to Serinah for all her amazing suggestions! :D

Tony rubbed the sleep from his eyes, blinking to adapt to the morning light. As the aroma of fresh bread and coffee wafted into his flared nostrils, he licked his lips, wondering about breakfast. Back arched, he strained his ears for signs of life in his new lair - a quaint cottage on palace grounds.

There were none.

Returning the previous night after a long week of riding, Tony had fallen into a deep slumber. Now, awake and well-rested, he could better appreciate his new lodgings and his own bedchamber. Tony had assumed that his new status as a married man came with someone to share a room with, if not a bed, but maybe this arrangement was another Valorian tradition - to wait or something along those lines. There was still so much he had to learn about his new country. 

And maybe, Steve just needed time.

Tony's own parents had been strangers when they married, and love had blossomed over time. He hadn’t expected to be swept off his feet right from the start, but the first time Steve touched his hand felt like magic. And Tony felt like he’d been waiting for him all his life.

Tony buried himself under the soft sheets, wrapped up in thoughts of his new husband and his gold hair and sapphire eyes. He ran a finger over his bottom lip, which burned from the press of ruby lips, which tasted of promise, that Steve would one day be his. And when that day came, he would hold on tight to his _precious_ , keep him close and never let him go.

Tony bit back a smile at the idea of Steve needing his protection. He was a brave and mighty king. And if he ever needed assistance, his little roundtable of trust, were up to the task. Steve knew that whatever difficulties they ran into, he could always count on Bucky's sword, Clint's bow, Nat's spear and Sam's axe. 

Watching the easy way Nat talked and laughed with the other knights, one would never have guessed that she’d been born anywhere else. Her heart well and truly belonged to Valoria, in spite of the blood that ran in her veins, and since she'd arrived in Shieldberg two years ago, she’d risen quickly through the ranks, earning the king's trust and her place by his side.

They'd offered him the same hospitality, going out of their way to give him a warm welcome. Still, Tony constantly felt out of place amongst this horde of hardened warriors. Sure, he was fairly proficient with his sword, having taken extensive lessons as a child. But whom was he trying to kid? In terms of combat experience, he had none, having been forbidden from participating in even a tourney or a joust.

It was all because of the _incident_.

Tony’s memory of the event was hazy, but he distinctly remembered the will-o-the-wisps, those glowing orbs of blue light, which beckoned him into the woods that fateful night and led him to the prized jewel. 

Enchanted, Tony hadn’t noticed the dragon looming, all poised to attack. A full-grown dragon - and he never even hesitated. He was a prince, bound by duty to defend the innocent. Besides, there was no stopping ten-year old boys from charging in front of dragons, not when they believed they were just as brave as the knights in their bedtime stories.

If not for the bloodstone around his neck, he would have died. But he was the boy who lived. And Thanos had been inside his head for ten years, since the day he blazed a hole in his chest - with dragonfire.

It had taken time, but his wounds had healed, leaving physical scars that were easily hidden and a smattering of magic that the dragon had unwittingly transferred to him, powers he retained but couldn’t command. Nothing fantastic - just the ability to light candles, heat things. Unless he learnt the spell, the magic words, to invoke the transformation, he was stuck in this state – neither dragon nor man.

A monster – that was what he was.

All hell would break loose, if their people discovered that their prince had dragon powers. For the fearsome beasts constantly raided forests, mountains and rivers, torching everything that impeded their hunt for treasure, and were widely considered to be a menace. To conceal his powers, Yinsen had forged a special medallion. And Strange had charmed it to suppress his abilities, allowing him to hide.

Slim fingers felt for the medallion, tracing its ridges as he wondered how long he could keep his secret from his new family. Perhaps, they would one day accept him if he proved himself and showed he was worthy of their trust. Till then, he would keep his powers well buried, like one would hide the most precious of gems.

The sound of footfalls, too soft for Steve’s boots, caused his ears to prick up. It was followed by firm rapping against the wooden door. “Coming!” Tony shouted as he threw on his clothes and smoothed his hair. He took a deep breath before cracking the door open.

“Good morning.”

Tony blinked at the sight of Queen Sarah, in a white, embroidered garment that grazed her ankles. Her fair hair was braided with white daisies that complemented the gold circlet around her head. She held up a basket of freshly-baked bread rolls. “Can I come in? I won’t stay long. Just bringing you breakfast.”

Tony stepped aside to grant her access to the home. As Sarah searched the cabinets for a tea set, Tony racked his mind for topics of conversation. Thankfully, the queen dowager was in no hurry to speak, content to set the table for breakfast - a combination of freshly-baked bread and fruit preserves, which was a welcome change from the suppers of stale bread and dried meat during the last couple of days.

“Are you settling in nicely?” Sarah asked, when they finally managed to sit down together.

“Yes,” he said. “Steve has been very – kind.”

She smiled, looking pleased at his answer. “Let me know if he isn't and I’ll set him right for you. For now, I'm glad he hasn't made you uncomfortable, at the least.”

 _Uncomfortable_. That wasn’t exactly the word he would use. He thought, as he squirmed in his seat, his face heating up as he recalled Steve’s ardent kisses under the cover of their tent. 

Sarah eyed him closely from behind her teacup. “Relax. You’re almost as nervous as Steve was,” she said. “We're lowborn folk, descended from farmers. It's no surprise that Steve must lack the grace of your usual company. But he's a good one. He takes good care of those loyal to him.”

It was a sentence that sounded reassuring and threatening all at once. Loyalty would be rewarded. And treachery? He wondered. Yet, the townsfolk had shown no fear in his presence, waving excitedly at them as they rode into the city. Steve had returned their greetings, and Tony had been struck by the grown-up expression on his youthful face. “He’s very young,” he said, as if it were something he’d just realised. They were really about the same age, but Steve was a king, already having to bear the weight of a nation on his broad shoulders.

Blue eyes clouded over. “We’ve been at war,” she said, plainly. “It’s turned our boys into men. Steve was only ten when he tried to enlist. They’d turned him away, of course. With his list of health problems. Thought they were saving his life.” 

Tony nodded. “I’ve heard the stories. Is he quite all right now?” he asked. 

Sarah leaned toward him, spilling some tea as she set her cup down, her eyes glazing over as she began to speak. “He is. And it’s all a miracle. None of us expected Steve to make it past his first birthday and by the time he was ten, we’d called on just about every healer from Brookland to Shieldberg in search of a cure, and that was when we met Lord Erskine.”

“The Royal Healer?” Tony asked, recognising the name. Yinsen had often mentioned him, holding his work in high regard. 

“Yes. He made an elixir, the first of its kind, and Steve was the first and only person who got it. Since then, he’s led a charmed life, which is why he can be a bit of a martyr. His faith is in people, and for the most part, they haven’t let him down.”

“I won’t,” Tony blurted.

Sarah smiled. “I know,” she said, gently. “You know, I’d always thought Steve would marry someone from here, a warrior who'd understand our way of life. But this is better. You’ll be good for him,” she said, nodding. “Besides, he’s already besotted.”

Tony’s eyes grew wide. _Besotted_. When they’d only just met.

Sarah’s face took on a grave expression. “I wish we had more time,” she said, sighing, “but you need to steel yourself for what’s coming. Steve is our king. And our greatest glory is a beautiful death.”

Tony took in the solemn words, appreciating Sarah's honesty. “He sounds like a tough one,” he said, trying to make light of the situation, and also because he didn't want Steve to die. 

“And so are you,” Sarah said as her gazed focused on him. “Underneath your soft eyes and smile, I get the feeling there’s iron in your spine, fire in your veins. And we’re family now. We take care of each other.” 

An unexpected wave of homesickness washed over him. “Thank you,” he said, feeling his eyes getting wet. 

They finished dining in companionable silence, before a smiling Sarah got up to leave, with Tony following her to the door. She turned back to face him at the threshold of their home, surprising him with a warm hug. Finally, with a kiss to his cheek and a swish of her dress, she was gone.

***

Alone in the house once more, Tony unpacked his belongings, finding room for his personal effects, with the exception of a large chest that just wouldn’t fit anywhere but in the space under his bed.

He opened the lid to gaze at its contents, blinking as the cut surfaces reflected the morning light. Raking a hand through the gems, Tony relished the feel of precious stones – pearls, diamonds, sapphires, emeralds and rubies, slipping through his fingers. _There._ Tony spotted it, right under a pile of gold coins, glowing with the trappings of magic, all on its own.

It had been at least ten years since it last time glowed. Apparently, shielding him from Thanos’ attack had depleted the stone of its magic, but just as Strange had explained, the stone had slowly absorbed magic from its surroundings, glowing again as it regained its magical properties. 

The source of the ruby’s magic was a drop of celestial dragon blood, said to provide its wearer with the power of fire. Other stones that formed from fangs, scales or other organs bestowed different powers on their wearers. And there was a belief that successfully collecting all six stones would grant one the power to make a wish.

Growing up, Tony had wanted the stones, thinking of the infinity spell as the only way for him to undo his curse. But, today, there were more important challenges the world had to face. He'd wish for peace, a suit of armour around the world, or around Armeria, to keep his families, old and new, safe from harm.

All of it was wishful thinking. _Peace in their time_. Surely, it required more magic than all the stones his treasure chest could hold. And his hoard was already enormous, a big problem he’d have to sleep on. Grunting with effort, Tony heaved the chest under the bed, almost getting it out of the way before the interruption.

“That’s a large chest.”

Tony jumped, surprised by his husband’s voice. He whipped his head around and stared, gazing upon Steve’s well-muscled torso, glistening from exercise. “Yeah, it is,” he breathed, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could take them back.

“What’s inside?” Steve asked, still looking at the chest, his expression curious.

“Oh. Stuff. It’s nothing. I just - I collect things,” Tony mumbled, keeping the lid on it tightly closed.

Steve didn’t pursue the matter, turning his attention instead to the book on his bedside table – _Dragoun Legendes_. Tony had carried it off to bed the previous night, curious to find out what Valorians thought of the titular mythical beasts. He’d bitten off more than he could chew, realising after a few pages, that the book was published in High Valorian, the much-forgotten language of Steve’s forefathers.

Steve ran his fingers over the gilded words on the cover. “Mother used to read this to me.”

Tony flipped to one of the dog-eared pages. “And this must have been your favourite tale." 

Steve smiled. “Yes,” he said. "A heartwarming tale about a boy, with no talents, finding his calling after meeting a friend.”

“A dragon.” 

“A friend,” Steve said. 

Tony shrugged. “Back home, they’re pests, just like they were in Berk.” 

"Well, I wouldn't call them pests." 

"Why not?" Tony asked, hope bubbling inside him. 

"They're frightful," Steve said. "At least in general." 

Tony felt his heart sinking to the bottom of his stomach. "Are they now?"

"Yes?" Steve said, looking at Tony with an incredulous expression. "Are you not afraid of them?"

"Not all of uh - them are out to do harm." 

"Yes, of course," Steve said easily, the corners of his lips curving up. "It's just like us mortals. Not all of us are out to do good."

"Indeed," Tony replied, a little flatly. While Steve hadn't condemned them as a whole, there was still some way to go. 

"But still I wonder,” Steve mused. “Do you think it’s true? That Thanos has recruited all of the world’s dragons to his cause?”

“Not this one,” Tony pointed out, turning to the prophecy of _Tyranaksthon,_ which they read in silence.

_The ending of an era_

_Will shroud us in the dark_

_To vanquish us from evil_

_The only choice is Stark_

_From a cavern, waterworn_

_The beast will fly into the storm_

_Spawned from hate, by love reborn_

_The chosen one – Tyranaksthon_

_One is day and one is night_

_Fates entwined in search of light_

_Cursed with knowledge, blessed with might_

_Our champion rises to new heights_

“Do you believe the prophecy?” Tony asked, speaking first.

Steve shrugged. “We can't be the only ones going against Thanos. His tyranny needs to be ended." 

“Can you really live without a war?” Tony asked. "Sarah said you seek a beautiful death,” 

"Things are different now," Steve said, before turning abruptly away. “Mother was here,” he said, when he noticed the teacups on their table. “What did she want?”

Tony hummed thoughtfully. “She was nice. Asked if I was settling in. And I think she tried to ask if you were a good kisser.”

“No, she didn’t,” Steve choked. “What did you tell her?” he demanded when Tony laughed, cheering up at the sight of the king's embarrassment.

“I said yes, that I was very comfortable here, with you.”

Steve pulled him closer and gave him a look. “Are you really?” he asked. 

“Yes. Bed is amazing. Not too soft and very, very warm.” It was, though not as warm as being in Steve's arms, where he wanted to linger forever.

“This must be a big adjustment for you. Life here – I know it’s no bed of roses.”

“Tony grimaced as he thought of the thorns. "We must be thinking of different flowers," he said. 

In response, Steve took his wrist and led him toward the door.

“Where are we going?” Tony sputtered in surprise.

His husband smiled mysteriously as he led them to the stables to fetch their horses. They rode along the walls, with Steve pointing out the important buildings in the city, before arriving at the garden, an enchanted one where magic had surely rained on the plants. The flowerbeds bloomed in the colours of a rainbow, the wondrous combination of earth, sunlight and rain. Peeking from behind low hedges were shy roses, blushing in the loveliest pinks.

Walking along the pebbled footpaths, flanked by lush green carpets, Tony could make out a lemon grove, with their bright yellow fruits hanging from their branches. Darker ivy at the back was allowed to run wild, growing tendrils in every direction. And finally, the taller trees – oak, birch, cedar shaded the back.

The garden was a world of its own, with specimens from various parts of the world brought together, blooming in harmony. Just like Valoria and her open borders, welcoming peaceful travellers from all corners of the world with wide arms.

“Wow,” Tony said, when he finally found his voice. “Heard through the grapevine that you were quite the budding artist, but they didn’t say you liked gardening too.”

“You asked about me,” Steve said, looking pleased. “What else did you hear?”

Tony felt the corners of his lips moving upwards, mirroring Steve’s. “It seems like you were some sort of a late bloomer. But everyone seems to love you anyway.”

Steve laughed. “People are obliged to love their king.”

“No. I think it’s your eyes. And your smile,” he offered, watching it grow brighter and warmer, against the midday sun.

Tony’s gaze trailed toward his long and strong neck, which widened into broad shoulders and well-built arms. He followed the lines of his body, tapering toward a narrow waist and what he already knew to be an ample posterior. Objectively, Steve was hot. And he was his husband. _Husband._ Tony felt dizzy, like he was seeing stars, so Steve guided him toward a stump, bringing him back down to earth.

Under the shade of a leafy, green tree, Tony watched as Steve pottered around the garden, filling a basket with berries, which he rinsed and offered to him. Tony was more than a little touched to see the humble Armestrian blueberry in the mix.

He examined the fruit between his fingers before popping it into his mouth. “I’m impressed,” he said, before having another. “Thought these only grew where it's cold.”

“We cultivated a new breed," he said. "Well, not _we_ we, just mostly Bruce.”

“Bruce?”

“Bruce Banner, our Royal Healer. He manages the herb garden and our orchard. He didn't make it to our wedding unfortunately. He was feeling - um - indisposed. I’ll introduce you some day. You’ll like him. He’s a bit like you.”

“Like me? How?” Tony asked, intrigued by the promise of a new friend.

“Clever. Bruce can find a way to grow anything he wants. It does help that plants seem to take well to our soil, even the heartewoode you're leaning against."

“A heartewood,” Tony said, turning back to run his fingers over the impressive trunk, noting the recently-trimmed branches hanging over him. “This is a heartewoode? A flowering one?”

“Not yet,” Steve said, regretfully, for the heartewoode only bloomed under very specific conditions. "It might just happen in our lifetime. Our grounds are rich and well-watered and we get plenty of sunlight all year.”

“It’s a beautiful place,” Tony said.

“Yeah?” Steve asked, clearly pleased. When Tony nodded, he asked, “We could arrange to spend summers at your home. Would you like that?”

“Yes,” he said. He’d like that very much. "Have you ever been? To Armestria?” he asked.

“No, not yet,” Steve told him, somewhat regretfully. "I’ll love it.”

“How can you know that?”

“I mean - I already do. It’s lively and charming. A lovely fa – place. It’s full of surprises,” Steve said. “You must find it very dull here,” he added.

“It’s beautiful,” Tony assured him. “Maybe it’s true what they say about the grass.”

“What do they say?” Steve said. “That it's always greener where it’s watered?”

“Yes, according to my mother,” Tony said, laughing. "She met my father the day of their wedding, but they learnt to love each other. They made each other happy.”

Steve frowned. “I don't want anyone to _learn_ to love me.”

“Yeah? But have you - been in love?” he asked, curious.

Steve blinked his eyes before looking beyond the garden. “It was so long ago. And we were young. But yes, it might be love.”

Tony’s heart clenched painfully at Steve’s words. Steve had someone, had had someone since a long time ago. Of course. A person like Steve had to have someone else. Steve hadn’t been trapped in a gilded cage, waiting for his life to begin. “So, if we didn’t have to marry...” he trailed off.

Steve shot him a funny look. “I don’t know,” he mumbled. “End up with Bucky, probably,” he added, shrugging.

From the trees, a robin chirped merrily while squirrels gathered acorns under the oak. Surrounded by all this beauty, something ugly bloomed in his heart. “Bucky?” he repeated, his voice strained. 

“Yeah. Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky,” Steve explained, his bright smile overshadowed by the shade from the trees. The flowers scented bitter. The berries tasted sour. And Tony began to feel cold. It was a strange, unwelcome emotion that had taken root in his heart. He wrenched at it, trying to pull it out, but the seed had been planted.

He cast his gaze downwards at Steve’s hand, noting how his wedding band paled in comparison to his larger, much-brighter sapphire ring. Tony gazed at the jewel, masterfully cut to catch the sunlight, so much so that it resembled the stars of their flag against the bright blue.

Steve was a king, one who was famed for his acts of honour, duty and sacrifice. Of course, he’d do anything for his country, including marrying a man he didn’t love, so long as it meant peace for his people.

 _Yes_ , he thought, with his heart breaking. _If not for the war, Steve would have married Bucky._

Steve’s true love, who was riding toward them that very moment. Tony watched the knight in shining armour bring his galloping horse to a stop, just outside the gates. Dismounting with haste, he made a beeline for them.

Tony admired the soft, dark hair, pulled back from his face in a loose bun, his bright eyes shining with excitement and his voice, which was warm and sincere. This man was an angel, and in his presence, Tony was reminded of his own repulsiveness, his shortcomings.

No amount of hoarded treasure could make him more beautiful or worthy of Steve’s attention. He was a monster, and a _frightful_ one, according to Steve. While Steve and Bucky - were a match made in heaven.

He felt his hand being squeezed. “Tony?”

Tony looked up to find two pairs of eyes looking worriedly at him. They looked so good together, their motions perfectly in sync. Briefly, Tony wondered why he was even there.

“Tony, we have to go. The emissary requests an audience.”

_Right. The war._

***

The knights were already gathered where their border guards had spotted the Anguisian - on a cliff overlooking the sea.

The emissary, a man named Ronan, bowed. “Hear me and rejoice. Soon, you will have the privilege of becoming a child of the Emperor Thanos. He offers you his protection and love.”

Nat scoffed. “Protection and love? He killed ten thousand people in one year.”

The messenger fixed his beady black eyes on her. “Why does a woman speak among men?” he asked.

Bucky stiffened at the question. “Because our women - raise real men.”

The messenger squinted, peering closely. “Perhaps, but this one is Anguisian. Yes, I remember you, the Black Widow. Why aren’t I surprised to find you behind enemy lines? After all, you have always been a woman of many talents,” he said, gesturing to her body in an insult.

“I don’t do that anymore,” she said.

“Whatever she used to do, she's one of us now,” Clint added. "But you're trespassing in this city and on our land."

"It means get lost!" Tony informed him. 

“Your highness, a genuine pleasure,” he said, barely sparing him a glance. “King Steven, you'll have to avoid a war at all costs. What a shame if something were to happen to any of your women or the lovely young prince?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Clearly, you don’t know the prince - or our women.”

“Clearly, you don’t know our might. Our army grows so massive it shakes the ground and drinks the rivers dry. All we ask from your king, is free passage through your lands. And a simple offering - a token of your submission. We’ll take the traitor,” he said, indicating Nat.

“No,” Steve said. “You have no army. You have no warriors. What you have are slaves - and they will fear my sword more than your whip.”

“Ah, but we have blood to spare. For victory, the emperor would sacrifice all his men.”

“And I would die - for any of mine.”

“A beautiful sentiment. But we will win, one way or another. The emperor is building a new army and we're ready for a higher form of war. You’ll fall to your knees,” he gritted out as he grabbed a fistful of Nat’s hair, attempting to shove her to the ground. She, in turn, took his wrist and twisted his arm behind his back.

“Enough!” Steve roared. “You talk too much,” he added more quietly.

“And the fate of the world hangs on to your word, king,” the messenger said, stressing the word, as if to remind Steve of this heavy responsibility.

Steve stared him down, his voice cold. “You bring the crowns of conquered monarchs to my city. You threaten us with slavery and death. You insult my people,” he said, pausing to look at Nat, then Tony. “Oh, I have chosen my words wisely,” he stressed, looking at the Anguisian again. “You should have done the same.”

Bucky and Sam grabbed hold of his arms. "This is hysteria!” Ronan cried.

Steve remained a picture of calm. “No, no. This is Valoria,” he said.

The man’s eyes darkened. “You’re going to regret this,” he warned as metal flashed in his hand. He broke out of their hold and lunged for Nat, going straight for her neck. She twisted out of the way, deflecting the attack with a blow of her own, sending him toward Bucky, who disarmed him quite easily, taking his dagger before kicking him toward the edge of the cliff, dangerously close. 

Bucky eyed him coldly, flicking the dagger in his hand as he walked toward the messenger. “You tried to kill Natalia. That’s the last thing you’ll ever do, pal.” Swiftly, he hauled him to his feet, keeping a firm grasp on his shoulders, even as he looked toward Steve, who gave the knight a small nod.

“Is this little display meant to insinuate you’re going to throw me off, Sir Barnes? ‘Cause it’s really not your style,” the messenger said.

“You’re right. It’s not,” Bucky agreed, smoothing Ronan's silk robes. “It’s hers,” he explained, stepping aside as Nat came forward.

She did. And with a well-placed kick to his abdomen, the Anguisian plunged from the cliff, his screams fading as he disappeared from sight.

Horrified, Tony raced to the edge, only to fall back in shock as loud shrieks pierced his ears. He stood in Redwing’s shadow, watching the falcon soaring above them, holding the messenger in his talons as broad wings carried them toward the sea, presumably to fling the man back on his ship.

Above them, the crows circled and cawed, but Tony could make out the distinct croaking of a raven, one which landed on the back of Sam’s hand. There was a moment of silence when Sam and the bird shared a look. Then, just as swiftly as it came, it was off, soaring for the skies.

Sam addressed the group. “Twenty ships. Just outside the Bay of Asterica. They make one last stop at Liberta. We have ten days, tops.”

Tony stiffened. He knew that war was on their shores, but he hadn’t quite realised how close it was.

“How many men?” Steve spoke, his face grim.

“Twenty thousand, mostly archers,” Sam answered, his mouth a hardened line.

Tony could tell from the troubled looks on the knights' faces that whatever they had wasn’t enough. “We’ll call on our reserves,” Steve said, reluctantly. “And our bannermen.”

“You’ll have to make a trip to Brookland.”

“If you’re going that far north, you might as well ride into Ferrecita and ask for the Iron Legion,” Tony suggested.

“It’s a delicate mission, one that requires intelligence,” Sam pointed out and as an afterthought, he added, “That rules Clint out."

“Hey!” Clint started to protest, but Nat placed her hand over his, looking pointedly at his wedding band, reminding him of his own responsibilities to his wife and children.

“I’ll go,” Bucky volunteered, stepping into the light.

Steve looked him over, with fond consideration, before giving him a nod. Sam would have been faster with Redwing, but the old chiefs had fought under King George’s banner. They would recognise Bucky as the late king’s son and come to their aid with haste.

_Bucky was the right choice. Bucky would always be the best choice._

“Don’t do anything stupid till I get back,” Bucky said softly, placing his hand at the back of Steve’s head.

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you,” Steve said, retort and smile ready on his lips, as he allowed Bucky to pull him into a tight hug.

They remained in the embrace, forehead-to-forehead, for what felt like an eternity. Tony had to tear his eyes away, under the impression that he was intruding. He had to leave. “I’ll be outside,” he told Sam.

Sam looked at him quizzically. “We are outside.”

“I’ll be outside some more,” he said, walking off toward their horses, because he had no problems watching them push a man off a cliff he but couldn’t stand to see Steve's arms around another.

He found Stripe alone, grazing on some grass, while his companions frolicked a distance away. It felt apt for his horse to be an outcast too, on the outside looking in. At least he was on the outside this time, instead of being confined to a life inside the palace and its courts.

Marrying a foreign monarch was his only chance of leaving the palace and war had always been inevitable. Thanos would find another reason to fight them for access to their land and their natural resources. It was the stones he was after and Tony had to do everything in his power to stop him.

What was left of the free world would turn their eyes toward Valoria, in the hope that they would put a stop to the emperor’s conquest. And they would be led by Steve, a brave warrior with blue eyes and red lips. Lips that were opening and closing and speaking at the very moment.

“I’m sorry. What?” he said when he finally noticed Steve looking at him. He was smiling tenderly at him too, as if he were his favourite person in the world. “There you are,” he said. “I missed you.

Tony forced his lips into a smile. “Yeah. Sorry. Had to get some air.”

Steve nodded. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said, tipping his head toward the cliff.

“Yeah. I’m fine,” he said, his voice sounding hollow to his own ears.

Steve studied him closely for a while more before speaking. “Time for home? Unless you’d like to go back to the garden?”

“Home is good,” Tony said, knowing he had his work cut out for him.

Bucky was the first to set off, eager to get a head start on his mission. The rest cheered, waving as their flag fluttered behind him. But Tony couldn’t. Because just before Bucky mounted his horse, he’d waved goodbye to Tony. And on his hand was a gold band with a bright blue stone, sparkling like the stars of their flag. Tony had just seen it in the garden.

It was Steve’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please feel free to ask me anything. :D


	3. That was Tony Stark.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is a BAMF.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! This is the third chapter of the story. I hope it's not too out-of-this-world. I've never written anything like that before so I had to refer to a number of books / films namely Romance of the Three Kingdoms, Harry Potter, Lord or the Rings, Game of Thrones, Pirates of the Carribean. Thank you for reading!

The fire crackled cheerfully in the hearth, sending light and warmth around the throne room. It cast a soft glow on Natalia, who was manipulating her new dagger. Next to her, Clint was pinching the tip of an arrow, one of many in his new quiver. Sam was right behind them, admiring the shine of a new battleaxe, before he swung.

 _Light, sharp, perfectly balanced._ Just like its maker.

On his other side, Tony was showing Bruce the best way to swing his new mace, one he’d made with cutting-edge anti-dragon technology, the lot of which he’d presented to Steve like some sort of dowry.

In the dim light, Steve spotted a flash of pearly whites and it warmed the cockles of his heart. How he wished to be the reason for that smile, for Tony to throw his head back with laughter because of what he said or did. 

It was just too bad he didn’t have the ability to turn into an enormous green rage monster at will. 

Tony’s face lit up each time he made a point in his fiery speech, detailing obsidian’s effects against the armoured scales. If Steve could just reach over and touch him, he knew, for a fact, that his skin would be warm. 

Steve’s own cheeks burned with the memory of the other night, when he’d burst into Tony’s room to find his bewildered husband soaking in the tub, under the cover of bubbles. Instead of leaving Tony to bathe in peace, Steve had insisted on adding hot stones to the tub, only to be shocked by the scalding water, causing him to brush against bare skin. Needless to say, Steve had fled right out of the room, favouring a cold shower instead.

Steve had expected their marriage to have progressed past the awkward phase, considering the way they’d taken to each other almost immediately. Sadly, that was not the case. If anything, it seemed to have regressed, right after their visit to the garden. Still, Steve would wait. He’d wait as long as he needed.

Tony was the brightest thing he’d ever seen, the warmest thing he’d ever touched. And the sparks had flown between them. Loving someone like Tony meant getting burnt, but Steve didn’t care. All he wanted was to be smothered in the heat, to feel his pink lips melting into his own, and to drown in those pools of liquid gold - those eyes that blazed with passion and desire -

Looking directly at him. 

“What?” he asked, when he realised he was being spoken to. 

“I don’t like this waiting. Sitting around,” Tony complained, doing the opposite of that, pacing restlessly around the room - a clear sign of how anxious he was. “There must be something we can do,” Tony said. “Their forces outnumber ours ten to one,” he added, citing the intelligence they had. 

Steve reached out for one of Tony’s hands as he walked by. “You’re right. But bear in mind that we’re up against untrained slaves. Men from landlocked countries, having never sailed a day in their lives. They’re going to arrive hungry, seasick, exhausted. Each of us is surely worth ten times as much as one of theirs.”

“Not all,” Tony countered, looking thoughtful. “They have their dragons.”

Steve nodded, sobering somewhat at the reminder, as he clasped Tony's hand as if to reassure him. “We have a Hulk,” he said. “A giant falcon and his handler. A couple of master warriors. And we have you,” he finished, with a smile. 

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Tony said, unimpressed. “That is dangerously arrogant. Has anyone ever told you that you can be quite reckless?”

“Pretty much everyone in this room, yes,” Steve answered. “And Bucky too. He’s probably suffered the most for it, could someday write a book on our swashbuckling adventures.”

Tony stiffened, pulling away. “And where is your knight?” he asked, wearing an unreadable look on his face. 

“Good question,” he said, wondering the same thing himself. 

The answer arrived in the form of a magpie tapping her beak against their window. Sam opened it to let her through, so it could deliver her message in a series of excited warbles. 

“He’s made it to Freoport, despite the delays from burnt bridges and scorched roads,” Sam translated.

“Dragons?” Nat asked, eyeing Sam with interest. 

“Possibly,” Sam said. “We’ve had three sightings just this week. There’s no reason for them to be flying so far inland. It feels like they’re looking for something,” Sam added. 

Nat’s eyes never left her spinning blade. “Is he going to have trouble? Coming back?” she asked.

“He’s sailing back on the _Osprey_ ,” Sam said, the mention of Captain Carter’s warship raising brows. Nat’s eyes, however, stayed on her blade. 

“Oh boy. Those two are going to make waves,” Clint said as Sam thumped him on the back, causing him to cough violently.

“How about the rest?” Steve asked, looking testily at Nat as he smoothly diverted the discussion. 

“They’re on board,” Sam assured him.

“All of them?”

“Fury, Dugan, Falsworth, Morita, Dernier and Jones - It’s the Howlies. They’re always going to fight,” Sam assured him. 

“If they arrive on time,” Steve said. “I understand that Captain Maw has plans to make landfall by daybreak.” 

Bruce raised a brow. “Bearing gifts?”

“Arrows and _archers_ , if you want to call them that,” Clint said. “And the word is - they’ve got enough to make it rain all night.” 

“And here we are, desperately short,” Nat said. “We should just barge in and take what we need.” 

“ _Barge_ in,” Tony chimed in as his eyes lit up. “Wait. I read this in a book,” he said.

“What book?” Nat asked, confused. 

“ _The Art of War_ by Lord Kong Ming.” 

Sam shrugged, clearly unfamiliar with literary works from the Middle Kingdom. “Well, in any case, we don’t have the ships. At least not till the Howlies get here.” 

“Ships? But we need barges.” Without elaborating, Tony peered outside the window. “Say, is there always this much fog around here?”

Bruce made a bit of a noise. “Winter is coming,” he said, somewhat ominously. 

“Then, it just might work,” Tony said, going back to pacing the room, mumbling to himself, making mental calculations of some sort. 

“Tony,” Steve cut in, softly, to get his attention, but Tony merely hummed. “Hey, Tony,” he repeated, a little louder.

Tony looked at him in surprise, his eyes widening to show the little flecks of gold in them. “Hay!” he exclaimed, before going back to counting numbers off his fingers. “Two hundred bales. That should do the trick.”

“Right,” Steve said as he gazed around the room, at a sea of blank faces, then back at his husband. 

Tony’s explanation was convincing enough, although it didn’t take much to persuade Steve where his husband was concerned. “Your call,” Tony said, in a bright voice.

Steve considered his husband's steadfast countenance. It was a face that would launch a thousand ships, and all he was asking for was twenty barges. And if his plan worked, they could deprive their enemy of their arrows, and save their own skins.

“You heard the prince,” Steve said, as the knights got up cheerfully to see to Tony’s request, leaving them alone. 

Tony looked bashful as he approached him with the shield - one of those modern circular discs that you could throw, the striped outer rings painted red and white, and right in the middle, a single star against a blue background. “Will you keep this quiet? Didn’t make one for the whole team. Just you,” Tony said.

Steve swallowed hard, getting emotional. The colours on the shield, a coupling of their flags, was a symbol of their alliance. As long as the shield flew overhead, it would serve as a beacon of hope.

They headed outside, where Steve could hurl into the distance, surprised by the ease with which it returned to his hand. _Magnetism_. _Special metals and rocks could attract and repel others_. Steve knew a little bit about lodestones himself, having had some success with his latest spinners. Yet, the way the shield moved defied all explanation. 

It was magic. 

“I love - it,” he breathed.

“Good,” Tony said, smiling at him. “Now I will be able to keep track of you and know you’re alive.” 

Steve returned the smile. “You’ll be on the cliffs? With Rhodes and Peter?”

“Actually,” Tony began, looking at him uneasily. “I was hoping to be on the barges. Need to make sure it all goes smoothly, you know?” 

“No, Tony,” Steve said, his voice firm. “You will not be our first line of defence.”

“I’ll build myself a tiny hay fortress.”

“No,” Steve repeated, cupping Tony’s small face between his large hands. “Stay on the cliffs. We need you and your men to work those ballistas. Keep your distance. Don’t put yourself in the line of fire.”

“You have a lot of demands,” Tony huffed, looking cross. 

Steve laughed, tempted to kiss his adorable pout. “I can’t lose you,” he admitted, going for his forehead instead. 

The tender move appeared to placate Tony. “Don’t die,” he mumbled in return, burying his face into Steve’s chest. 

Steve laughed as his arms tightened around his prince. “For you, I’ll try my best.” 

***

Mist shrouded the night sky, obscuring the moon and stars. Assembled on the deck of _The Triskelion_ , Steve and his warriors waited in the cool hours before dawn for a sign. 

_Nothing._

Steve didn’t need to see beyond the fog to know that hundreds of the world’s finest warships lay waiting on their waters. One could only guess at the number of men and arrows they carried. And all that was standing between the enemy and _The Triskelion_ were twenty barges of haystacks, steered by a handful of fishermen.

Steve turned to address his fine warriors on his ship, knowing each of them by name. He’d trained together with some, fought together with more, and he was privileged to count them among his family. 

“Steady your breath. Look deep into your hearts. Your will is to be tested. During the heat of battle, should you need a reason to fight, turn to the man or woman beside you. They are the _why_ we fight, so we can end the fight - and go home. Be it to husbands, wives, children or to see the face of God. Tonight, we battle. For family, for freedom, for Armeria!”

“Armeria!” The warriors roared, swords clashing against shields, spears thumping on the deck to the rhythm of beating drums, so deafening it could surely be heard from across the sea.

It was the sound of war. 

The enemy’s response was swift. Arrows rained down upon them in a terrifying arc. Through the thick fog, the Anguisians were shooting blind, but the arrows were no blanks, making firm contact with their unintended targets – hay statues, illuminated by soft lanterns at the bow and stern of the barges, as _The Triskelion_ hid behind, cleverly out of sight. 

Drums pounded incessantly. It was the point – for the enemy to think they were under attack. The arrows came so fast and furious that the barges soon began tilting to one side. 

A horn sounded from the middle barge, and the barges rotated, allowing the hay statues on the other side to collect their share of arrows. Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the shower stopped. Steve held up his hand, and the drumming ceased, allowing him to hear the anguished cries of the enemy discovering their act of deceit.

Mission accomplished, the red herrings, those barges laden with enemy arrows, made their way back to _The Triskelion_ amidst triumphant cheers. It was brilliant. It was wonderful. It was perfect. It was Hercules capturing Cerberus, it was Perseus slaying the gorgon…

_It was Tony Stark._

Steve thought, with growing horror, as he recognised the prince’s distinct silhouette against a towering inferno. Fiery arrows began raining on the barges, intent on destroying the stolen arrows so they couldn’t be used again. The barges erupted in flames. 

And Tony was on one. 

“Sam, are you seeing this?”

“Seeing. Still working on rescuing,” Sam said, as he sent Redwing toward the burning barge.

“Boost me,” Steve said, directing the command to a growing Bruce. “I’ve got to get to Tony. He’s all alone.”

“He’s not alone,” Sam corrected, as they watched Tony climbing onto Redwing’s back. 

“Neither are we,” Nat informed him, turning his attention to the growing number of sea serpents surfacing around their deck, circling their ship with undulating motions in a monstrous whirlpool. They were green and scaly, like large snakes, but with red plumes, conical snouts and wide gaping maws… 

That breathed fire.

“Leviathans!” Clint shouted, as he reached for an obsidian arrow, shooting one of the beasts between its eyes as it crept onto the deck, which soon began teeming with the fiery beasts.

The arrow bounced off armoured skin, falling uselessly onto the deck. In response, the wretched creature let out a loud roar, and _The Triskelion’s_ bulwark burst into flames.

“They’re dragons! Their backs are all armour. Aim for their bellies!” Nat shouted, demonstrating what she meant with a swift jab to the underside of a serpent’s neck. “Get them to look up.”

“And how are we supposed to do that?” Clint countered.

Sam looked around. “We need a diversion. Something big.”

“Up there!” someone shouted as they turned their eyes to the sky to see a winged creature, the same colour as the evening sky, winging swiftly toward them.

“There it is,” Nat said.

As far as dragons went, it was medium-sized, with disproportionately large wings for long-distance flight. Its silver scales gleamed under the evening light, and its eyes and horns glowed a brilliant blue, illuminating the rest of its face, so they could make out its snout, which opened to let out a stream of mist directly at Tony’s barge, putting out the fire. 

Job done, it flew back to _The Triskelion_ , directing the mist at a small platoon of sea serpents near the stern of their ship before circling the perimeter. 

As it passed overhead, Clint drew his bow, eyeing the dragon warily.

“Clint,” Steve warned.

“How do we know which ones are on our side?”

“Did it just save Tony?” Steve asked. 

“I think so,” Clint said, shrugging. 

“Then, it’s on our side,” he decided, his conviction strengthening as the dragon began to put out the fires on their ship, freezing the waters around them. Caught in the stream of icy mist, monsters froze in motion, faces contorted and their bodies in a twist as the flames were snuffed out. 

Effectively, their ship was frozen, but so were the leviathans, making them easy targets for the warriors on board. Those who were far enough to avoid the attack found themselves excluded from the action via the frozen moat.

A loud squawk heralded Redwing’s landing on _The Triskelion’s_ deck, allowing a gleeful Tony to climb off and race toward them. 

“You never said you had a dracanix!” Tony shouted excitedly, naming the species.

“We don’t,” Steve said. 

“Not yours?” Tony asked, surprised. 

“Nope,” Steve said. He pulled the prince toward him, inspecting his face and body under the moonlight. Much to his relief, the young prince was miraculously unscathed.

“Hey,” Tony softly said, biting his lip. 

“Right. Hay,” he chuckled. “Great plan, but a little on the dishonest side.”

Tony huffed. “Dishonest? They willingly gave us their arrows. And trust me, your men—”

“Our men,” Steve gently corrected.

“Our men will be happy to return them,” he said, smirking. 

“Stop joking,” Steve scolded. “You could have died.” 

“I didn’t.” 

“Tony, you can’t just do these things without talking to me! You have to tell me stuff.” 

“I did. I told you. I wanted to be on that barge.” 

“And I said _no_. You could have been hurt, or worse — killed.” 

“I think I did okay!” Tony said, hurt flashing in his eyes.

Steve stopped, forcing himself to calm down. Tony was safe, and that was all that mattered. He wasn’t going to pick a fight. “Yes, you were amazing,” he said instead. “How — how are you alive? Never mind. Don’t answer that. Just come here.” 

Tony moved into his embrace without much of a fight, leaning his head against Steve’s chest. 

Steve put his arms around his back, resting them at the small of his waist. “Don’t you ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, do anything like that again,” he said, softly. “If something happened to you, I would die,” he finished, resting his chin on the top of Tony’s head. 

“And we’ll be short of a king,” Tony mumbled. 

“It’ll be fine,” Steve answered, rubbing his back. “They’ll have elections, choose Bucky this time.”

Tony broke out of his embrace, looking at him in disbelief. “Would it kill you not to think about your pal, your buddy, your Bucky for just a bit? I mean we were having a moment. And now you’ve gone and ruined it,” he said, storming off.

“Where are you going?” Steve shouted, running after the prince.

“Why? You coming?” 

“Tony, come back. Please.”

Tony did the opposite of that, heading directly for the quarterdeck, which promptly burst into flames.

They turned to look at each other in shock. “Stay with me,” Steve said.

“Yep,” Tony agreed, allowing Steve to help him up, before another blaze erupted near the stern. 

Like shooting stars in the night sky, the fiery arrows rained upon their ship, starting little fires they hurried to put out. They ran to the water pump Tony had constructed, connecting the hoses for the fishermen to put out the fires.

Above them, the silver dracanix continued to hover, extinguishing new fires and providing support whenever possible. Together, they kept the fires from spreading, but the enemy kept up the assault and before long, new fires were starting faster than they could be put out. 

A horn rang out, floating across the ocean into their ears. It was followed by a series of different horns at different pitches, said to match the battle cries of their namesakes. Straining his ears, Steve could make out the chords of their national anthem, heralding the arrival of the Howling Commandos and their ships – Fury’s _Heron, Carter_ ’s _Osprey,_ Jones' _Wryneck,_ Falsworth’s _Lammergeir,_ Morita’s _Ibisfugl_ Dugan’s _Nighthawk and_ Dernier’s _Gullbrid_.

From their berths that dotted the West Coast, they’d journeyed down the Valorian Straits, just in time. Cheers erupted on _The Triskelion’s_ deck as their own horns sounded in a rejoinder.

With the enemy directing their firepower at the new arrivals, the frost dragon glided toward the Howlies, ready to snuff out their fires, but just as it looked like the tides had turned, the situation got much, much worse.

As if cursed by some obscure magic, their warriors began to keel over, one by one, wide-eyed and unmoving, like rocks. 

“Hill!” Clint screamed, catching a shieldmaiden who’d dropped like an anchor, her gaze still and body unmoving. 

“What the hell is that?” Steve shouted, as something heavy slammed into him and slithered ponderously toward the mainmast. 

“Everyone’s got a superpower now,” Sam said.

“Anybody on our side hiding any shocking and fantastic abilities they’d like to disclose? I’m open to suggestions,” Tony called out. “Because _that_ is Captain Maw. And he’s a basilisk!”

“What’s a basilisk?” Clint asked, furrowing his brows. 

“The king of serpents, the basilisk is a monster of titanic proportions. Gazing directly into his bulbous yellow eyes will petrify even the hottest-blooded warrior,” Tony began, reciting his knowledge from memory. 

“One who means to battle a basilisk may use reflective surfaces to avoid petrification,” Tony added, drawing his sword. “Which include the blade of a sword, the back of a shield, or even a puddle of water.” 

“When did you become an expert in sea monsters?” Nat asked, carefully hiding her face behind her shield. 

“Last night,” Tony said. “Why? Am I the only one who did the reading?”

“What reading?” Sam asked, his brows furrowed.

“Newt Salamander. _Macabre Monsters and How to Slay Them_ ,” he answered. “I highly recommend you take a look.” 

“What for? We’ll just ask you,” Clint said, before they all turned to stare at Tony who had begun making strange hissing sounds.

“Tony?” Steve said, eyeing him curiously. “What else have you been reading? Are you learning _Draconic_ by any chance?”

“I - what?” Tony asked, surprised at the mention of the language of dragons. “You guys aren’t hearing him too?” he asked, turning to face the others who were slowly shaking their heads. 

“Well, what does the beast want?” Sam asked, watching warily as the serpent slithered into sight. 

“He’s after a stone,” Tony said. “They’re all looking for it.” 

“You’ve got to be kidding me. That’s what we go to war over? A stone?” Clint whispered, hoarsely.

“Hulk got stone,” Hulk said as it leapt up from behind the basilisk, smashing a rock over his head. The basilisk’s body, thick as an oak, was thrashing wildly on the deck as its forked tongue spat in agony. 

“Oh my God, that was really violent!” Tony exclaimed, looking at Hulk in awe.

Taking advantage of the moment, Steve threw his weight behind his sword, driving it into the serpent’s middle. Nothing happened. The serpent’s hide looked completely intact. He tried again, and again, putting his full weight behind the swing, which only succeeded in breaking its tip.

He was about to hack at the creature with the side of his sword, but the serpent had had enough. With an angry hiss, Captain Maw coiled his tail around him, immobilising his legs, his arms, working his way around his neck, squeezing the life out of his body as Steve strained against his grip.

“Steve, relax! If you keep fighting, it will kill you faster,” Tony shouted. 

“Kill me faster? Wow, that really helps me relax,” he grumbled, realising that as he spoke, the serpent was indeed uncoiling, distracted by a loud noise - Tony banging on his shield with a blade. 

“Steve!” Tony shouted, tossing the shield at him in a swirl of red, white and blue, before running off, giving the basilisk a new target. 

The monster slithered after Tony, his forked tongue darting out, dripping venom onto the ship. It closed in, right on Tony’s tail, his head poised to strike. Steve slammed his shield against the back of the beast’s head, picking Tony up to drag him around the corner. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Steve hissed. 

“Um - Saving your perfect ass?” 

Steve stopped, feeling his cheeks heating up. “I had him on the ropes,” he said.

“Oh, right,” Tony said, rolling his eyes. “That explains why you looked a little tied up.” 

Pressed up close against Tony’s body, Steve could feel his warm puffs of breath against his cheek, urging him to lean in. 

“Oy,” Clint shouted, interrupting them. “The beast’s hide is too thick to be pierced from the outside. I must cut through it from the inside.”

“What? No, Clint! Clint!” Nat shouted as they watched the monster’s tail whipping the archer across the deck, after driving an arrow up the serpent’s ass. 

“That doesn’t make any sense! The skin inside is as thick as the skin outside!” Sam said.

“I tried telling him that!”

At that point, the beast let out an ear-piercing wail, convulsing uncontrollably on the deck. 

“No, look! Clint’s right,” Tony said. 

“I am?” Clint asked, gleefully, as Sam heaved him to his feet. 

“Guys! Get him to open his mouth. I know just what to do!” Tony shouted, scrambling toward the monster.

“Be quick. It is very strong,” Nat said as she jumped over the sweeping tail. 

Hulk grabbed hold of its tail, lifting it up and slamming it against the ground. He repeated the action, slamming it on the other side. “Hulk can. Smashy. All day,” he said, trying to knock the serpent out. 

The beast looked dazed, slumped on the deck, so Tony moved in, carefully shielding his eyes with the blade of his sword. “Tony, no,” Steve whispered, holding him back.

Tony tried to twist out of his firm grasp. “Steve,” he hissed. “We’ve got a ten-second window. Miss it and we’re supper.”

Steve tightened his grip. “Everyone is supper. Even the dead basilisk will find itself devoured. It’s the circle of life. The predator becomes the prey and the prey the predator.” 

Tony took the bait. “Really? Steve? Now’s the time to talk about Aristotle? Do you know he also said that blonds have better sex?” Tony began, prompting Steve to raise his brows in encouragement. “You’re blond. So, enlighten me.” 

It worked - his ploy to keep Tony distracted and away from the Basilisk. But what Steve hadn’t expected was their missing the moment that Nat drove her spear into the roof of the basilisk’s mouth, wounding it grievously. In response, the serpent let out a furious hiss, jaw clamping down and trapping Nat’s arm in his mouth. 

Steve was on the beast in a second, hitting it squarely on the head with his shield. It let out a wail, opening his mouth to free their friend, who leapt away, cradling her arm to her chest. 

The rest continued their assault on the weakened beast - shooting arrows, thrusting spears and swinging swords. Then, the Hulk, grabbing the other end of Nat’s spear, impaled the serpent further, ending his life with a final smash against a steel mast. Mortally wounded, the basilisk’s yellow eyes dimmed as he went eerily silent. 

Steve scrambled back to where the group was beginning to gather around Nat. “Sam,” Steve called, watching from the corner of his eye as a tearful Tony attempted to yank the venomous fang from Nat’s stony arm. “We need to get her ashore.” 

“Yes,” Sam agreed, directing Redwing to her motionless body, with them watching in horror, their blood turning to ice, at the sight of their friend’s skin taking on a greyish hue.

There was no time to panic or cheer even as the last leviathans were fought off.

The deck went silent as a cold gust blew, chilling them to their bones. Looking around with deep unease, they began to notice the sea turning black. A violent thump to the hull rocked their ship. 

Enormous tentacles snaked around the ship’s perimeter, crushing the ice to chunks. Ahead of the bow, a bulge broke through the water’s surface. Large eyes stared as a massive beak, crammed full of razor-sharp teeth opened in a roar. 

“Kraken!” Clint shouted, his scream drowned out by the roar of the beast. Mayhem resumed as warriors scrambled to their stations, trying to free the boat from its icy moat, the braver ones firing arrows into the monster’s mouth. They were out of their league, exhausted by their efforts to battle the monsters from the depths of the ocean - an army of leviathans, a basilisk and now, a kraken. 

Compared to the tentacled beast, they were clearly shorthanded. Still, they had the bravest warriors - a hulk, a mysterious fire-snuffing dragon, a giant falcon, a master archer. 

And someone who read a lot of books.

“A sea monster of titanic proportions, the kraken has a beak of sharp teeth and eight tentacles, each the size of a full-grown basilisk, with suckers in place of scales. One must be careful not to cut these tentacles, for two more will grow in its place. The thick hide will hold against steel arrows, blades and spears. Even obsidian, noted for its potency against dragons, has no effect on the mighty beast.” 

“Kraken no dragon,” Hulk shouted. 

“It’s an octopus,” Steve said.

“An octopus,” Clint echoed, as they shared a laugh. 

Tony glared at them. “Is everything a joke to you guys?”

“Funny things are,” Clint explained. “Sorry, it’s just that…” 

“She’s supper,” Steve explained, looking at the beast.

“Aye. Call it, Cap,” Clint shouted.

Steve smiled. “All right, listen up. Keep the tentacles off the ship. Clint, I want you on the main mast. Call out patterns and strays. Tony, go with him. The rest form two lines facing out. Any of these arms come to the surface, shoot or punch them. Arrows and spears. And fists. No blades,” he said. 

“Whabbout Hulk?”

“Hulk, you smash,” Steve said, and the changeling smirked. 

“And I’m going to hunt,” Steve said, picking up Nat’s spear and moving toward the bow. 

“Wait,” Tony said, holding on to his wrist. Steve paused, the question on his lips answered with a soft kiss. “Go get her.”

Steve touched his lip in surprise, turning to stare at the Hulk, who made a face.

“Hulk no kissy you,” he snorted.

Flying high from the kiss, Steve found himself climbing the bowsprit, making his way to the tip. There, Steve could see it, its large head bubbling toward the surface. Distracted by the wave of attacks on her tentacles, she didn’t appear to see him. 

Until she did. 

“Hello, beastie,” Steve said, before he sprang, spear in hand, toward the spot between her eyes, making a satisfying squelch. 

The beast howled as she thrashed about, her flailing tentacles sweeping their warriors off the deck into the sea, where Redwing was waiting to pick them up. Steve gripped the spear, trying to hold on despite the violent thrusts, but the kraken was too strong. 

A tentacle ripped out the offending weapon, with Steve still clinging to it. Steve braced his body for the crash, which never came. Instead, green fingers curled around his ankle, lifting him effortlessly back on deck. 

“Thanks,” he said to the Hulk, who grunted, and tossed him back at the beast’s head. 

Steve slipped down the slimy head, plunging his spear into her forehead again to get a grip. The beast let out another howl of anguish, wailing as she rocked her head wildly to be rid of the pain. 

“Tony!” Steve shouted, his clammy palms almost letting go of the spear when he spotted a tentacle curling around the prince, lifting his motionless body toward the monster’s mouth. 

“Steve!” Tony shouted, brandishing the dagger in his hand. As the tentacle rose, closing the distance between them, Tony hurled the weapon at Steve, who caught it by the handle - a tight wrapping of silk. On the other end, venom dripped from what had been the fang of a basilisk. “Go for the head,” he said. 

“What do you think I’ve been doing?” he asked, giving him a reassuring wave. 

Hanging from the spear with one hand and holding the fang in the other, Steve inched toward the middle of the kraken’s face, looking directly into her hideous eyes. Mustering all the strength left in his body, he swung his arm back and struck. 

The kraken howled, her body twisting in agony, as her tentacles uncurled, her victims falling into the sea, floating until Redwing or the mysterious dracanix picked them up.

Steve watched, enthralled as its purple hide turned grey, as though hardening to stone, just like what had happened with Nat. Just before the petrification was complete, Steve pulled out the dagger, watching in wonder as the fang began to crystallize.

Captivated by the magical phenomenon, he hadn’t noticed the kraken’s head disappearing under the water’s surface, a maelstrom forming in her wake. 

“Steve!” 

Tony was riding the dracanix, beckoning him to get on before the whirlpool could drag him toward the ocean bed. He climbed on behind Tony, catching his breath in the chilly skies as they circled Shieldberg Bay.

Cold mist hung in the air, softening the bright lights from the ships below them. Unable to move beyond the line of defence created by the Howling Commandos, and bereft of their serpents and monsters, the weapon-deprived Anguisians had begun to beat a hasty retreat.

For a quick moment, Steve considered pursuing the retreating armada, to strike while the iron was hot and declare a firm victory. 

But that was not their way. 

Glancing down at the beach, where Nat and the other petrified warriors were, Steve’s heart raced, beating painfully against his chest. With a deep breath and a heavy sigh, they began their descent. 

***

“How’s she doing?” Steve asked, once they’d landed on the beach. 

“Not good,” Sam answered, his eyes grim. “We couldn’t stop the venom from spreading.”

Steve leaned over Nat’s body, eyes smarting as he moved in to kiss her cold forehead.

Tony frowned at him. “Why are we acting like she’s dead? She’s not dead. She’s petrified. She’s just been petrified by a magical creature. We just need to hit the books, find the right spell, and she’ll be right as rain. There must be some kind of cure,” he said, looking around the beach desperately for help. 

“Phoenix tears,” Bruce said sadly. “Any chance?” he asked, looking at Sam, who shook his head. “Well, it’s either that - or - do we know if she had family?”

“Yeah. Us,” Steve said, when he finally found his voice again. “Oh, God,” he said, feeling defeated. 

“We should take a look at that fang. Study the poison and try making an antidote,” Tony said, holding on desperately to that last glimmer of hope, which Steve dashed by giving him the dagger, where a yellow crystal now sat in place of a basilisk fang. 

“What?” Tony exclaimed, astonished, looking almost afraid to take it. 

“You should keep it,” Steve said, running his thumb over the glowing gem to show it caused no harm. “It looks like magic. Maybe Strange could have a look and advise us on a cure.” 

Tony took the gem from him, studying it curiously for a short moment, before slipping it into his pocket. “This is all our fault,” Tony sighed, burying his face in his hands as he sank down into the sand. 

They sat on the beach quietly, looking gravely at the gentle waves lapping against the shore, little boats carrying the last of their people back to land. Amidst the sea of faces, Steve could make out a familiar, bright face. Steve took a deep, uneasy breath, steeling himself for the hardest thing he’d ever had to do.

Bucky, who’d just been saying his goodbyes to the captains, seemed to know at once that something was off. His face fell and the blood drained from it. Then, he broke into a slow jog. 

Steve met him midway, taking his horrified friend into his arms. “Buck, stop,” he said, holding onto him, knowing that he was going to take it hard. 

“What happened,” Bucky asked, an edge to his voice as his face remained unreadable in the dim light. 

“She fought a basilisk. She was very brave,” Steve said, telling him the hard truth. “I’m so sorry, Bucky. I love you. We’re all going to be here for you. You know that, right?” he added, trying to soften the blow. 

Bucky stood stiffly in place, as though he were petrified himself. “I - I never told her. Despite how much we fought, I loved her most. And she was the best of us.”

“She was.” 

“Let go of me,” Bucky said, pulling away, but Steve only held on, as if he could protect his friend from all the heartache in the world by keeping him in his arms. Bucky, though, was having none of that. “You’re in the way, Steve,” he warned, raising his voice. “Let me go.”

Surprised, Steve’s arms fell limply to his sides. Bucky brushed past him to kneel beside Nat’s body, taking her into his arms. “Natalia, please. It’s me, Bucky. It’s James.” 

Nat’s eyes remained closed and she didn’t move, much less respond. 

His eyes glazed over, hot tears spilling out of them. They weren’t the same proud tears he shed for a brother or his own father, when they fought bravely on the battlefield and died a beautiful death. The tears flowed in abundance, rolling down his cheeks, landing on her exposed forearm, right where the fang had pierced her skin. 

A tear. And another. And another one more.

Each drop that fell on her lifeless body appeared to wash some of the ash from her skin. The grey lightened, then lightened some more, until it resembled skin - her skin, but brighter, glowing from the inside out, like her body was bound in magic.

_Oh. They were magical healing tears. Bucky was no phoenix, but he was her one true love._

Steve turned to Tony, meeting his astonished gaze. He reached out for Tony’s hand, squeezing it gently in his. The rest exchanged awed looks as they watched an oblivious Bucky sobbing over a slowly-reviving Nat. 

Nat returned with a loud gasp, prompting Bucky to look down at her living, breathing body. He sat back on his heels, casually raking a hand through his messy hair. He cleared his throat, opening and closing his mouth in an attempt to speak, but no words came out. 

Nat gave him a faint smile. “Your eyes are red. Were you crying?” 

Bucky looked bashful, wiping his face with his sleeve as he came clean. “Tears of joy. You know I hate fighting. Alone.” 

She reached out and touched his arm. “You’re not alone.” 

“And neither are you,” he told her, quietly.

“You know what?” Nat said, after a long moment. “I just fought a basilisk and I’m exhausted. So, I’ve decided. I’m done. This -,” she said, her hand sweeping over both of them. “This doesn’t have to end in a fight.” 

“What?” he asked, the corners of his lips twitching upward. “It always ends in a fight.”

“Does it now?” she asked, flipping him onto his back in one move. And before Bucky could say a word, she hit him softly, on his mouth, with her own, subduing the breathless knight with her superior mouth-to-mouth combat skills.

“Oh my God. Get a room,” Rhodes groaned, appearing from behind them, looking a little too exhausted for someone who was supposed to be firing ballistas from the cliffs. 

“Yeah,” Clint agreed, feigning disgust despite the broad grin on his face. “Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable.”

Judging by the joyful cheers along the beach, the other petrified warriors were slowly coming back to life, revived by the tears of loving family and friends. They had expected a day of carnage and ruin and it was a nice change, not to have to clean up the blood and flesh of patriots from their shores.

Tony tugged on Steve’s hand and as he leaned over to hear what Tony had to say, the prince pressed his soft lips against his. Steve’s arm curled around Tony’s waist, pulling his husband so close he could feel his heat seeping into his own body, warming him from the inside. 

Steve had no idea how long they kissed, but he could have stayed in that moment forever. When they looked up, the sun was rising, and brave warriors were getting to their feet, arms around each other, as they made their way home. 

Despite the fatigue in his body, Steve felt at peace and it was the best feeling in the world. He began to wonder how he’d lived through all those battles without Tony by his side. With him, Steve felt like they could do anything in the world. 

But first, they needed a holiday. Or that honeymoon he planned. Even the prospect of a warm bath and bed sounded like heaven. They made their way toward Peter, who was taking Star and Stripe to them.

“Any idea where the dracanix went?” Tony asked as he mounted his horse, looking around for their mysterious ally, who’d disappeared once the fighting was over.

“Nope, but I get the feeling that’s not the last we’ll be seeing of him.” 

"And will that be okay with you?" Tony asked, looking closely at him. 

Steve nodded. "Yeah, of course. His actions today have proven without a doubt that he is on our side." 

Tony cocked his head, giving him a look. “You know what just happened? We defeated their ships, slayed those beasts. But they’ll be back. And next time, they’ll fight to win.” 

Steve nodded. His husband was right. Emperor Thanos would be back, probably with twice as many beasts next time. It was a realisation that should strike fear deep in his heart. But his faith was in people - and Valoria was home to Earth’s mightiest heroes. 

Besides, they had Tony Stark. 

“Let them try,” he said, with a small smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've read this chapter before 1 February 2021, you might (or not) have noticed that I've changed the names of their warships. Initially, they were named after dragons, but that's so random. I've decided that Valoria loves their birds (the eagle is on their coat of arms, they have a giant falcon, so their warships are the Heron, Osprey, Wryneck, Lammergeir, Ibisfugl, Nighthawk, Gullbird. The first letters spell out HOWLING. :) Previously, the warships were Hydra, Ouroboros, Wyvern, Lyndwyrm, Imugi, Niddhogr, Gargouille, but these would probably be better names for Anguisian ships instead. =p
> 
> Thank you for reading this story. I hope you had fun. >_<


	4. I am Tyranaksthon.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Tony go on a vacation. Tyranaksthon makes an appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Here's the next chapter. :)
> 
> A huge thank-you to Serinah for beta-reading this chapter. Thank you to AvengersNewB for all her encouragement and support. I would never have finished / posted this story without their constant reassurances (lies) that it isn’t a complete disaster.

“This way,” Steve whispered, leading Tony into another deep, dark tunnel.

“How are you doing that?” Tony asked, impressed by Steve’s ability to navigate in the dark, with only a couple of lanterns to light the way. “Can barely see the back of your head.” 

“It’s our favourite haunt,” Steve explained. “As kids, Sam and Bucky would run in, daring each other to go farther than was really safe.”

“And you?” Tony asked.

“Waiting at the entrance, for one, or both, to call for help.”

Tony hummed. “Barnes has a good memory and Wilson must have had help. Owls?” 

“Yep,” Steve said. 

“So, what did you have that they didn’t?"

Steve shrugged. “I don’t even know. For some reason, I’ve always felt perfectly at home right here.” 

“At home?” Tony echoed. He turned to Steve, holding his lamp up to his face. “Why? Are you Tyranaksthon?” he asked, making a show of wide, frightened eyes. “Taking your young husband inside your lair? What are you trying to do?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Mmmm…” Steve said, smacking his lips as he played along. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Tyrant’s Cave on King’s Isle,” Tony said. “What an extraordinary choice for a honeymoon,” Tony said. 

“You _are_ an extraordinary spouse,” Steve countered, as he pulled Tony closer. 

Tony laughed as Steve’s arms closed around him. “Don’t,” he said, twisting out of the embrace. “I can barely breathe.” 

“Oops,” Steve said, releasing him as they made it to the heart of the cave. “And you haven't even seen it yet,” he said, raising his lamp to illuminate the murals on the walls. 

It was a sight that took his breath away - six dragons battling it out in the skies, their unique abilities of ice, fire and lightning immortalised in the carvings. One of them was impressively sized, his stocky body covered with spiky scales. He led two smaller dragons, one with fiery horns and the other with a forked tail that glowed with sparks.

Flying in the opposite direction was a dracanix, just like their ally on the _Triskelion_. There was also a drameleon, one of those elusive colour-changing, shape-shifting dragons who were either extinct or thriving, depending on whom you asked. The last of the dragons was the least distinctive. Yet, something about the arch of its back and the graceful drop of its tail made it impossible to look away from. 

“That’s Tyranaksthon,” Steve explained, brushing away a layer of dust to reveal a plaque with an inscription on it.

 **_BIRTH OF A KING_ **

_From a cavern, waterworn_

_The beast will fly into the storm_

_Spawned from hate, by love reborn_

_The chosen one – Tyranaksthon_

Tony had read the prophecy several times - always with a healthy dose of skepticism. Yet, here, in the heart of the cave, surrounded by these elaborate carvings, Tyranaksthon felt more real than ever.

“Such a sexy-looking beast,” Steve running his hands over one of Tyranakston’s carvings.

Tony pouted. “That’s what you said - about me.” 

Steve snaked his strong arms around Tony to rest at the small of his back. “He truly is - very handsome, but I’ve only got eyes for you.”

Leaning in, Steve was so close that Tony could feel his hot breath against his cheek, as Steve’s warm mouth touched his. Tony melted into the kiss, which lasted several moments, finally pulling away when he had to breathe. 

“That - is terribly inappropriate, your majesty,” Tony said, panting. “May I remind you - that we’re in a sacred place,” he said, gesturing to the shrine. “You will need to control yourself.” 

Steve grinned. “You really think that a legendary dragon, the so-called king of flying beasts, is going to mind a couple of guys kissing in his cave?”

“I don’t know,” Tony mumbled. “Is he even real?”

Steve shrugged. “You’re real,” he assured him, kissing his nose.

“Careful there, my king. Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

“Oh, I’ll finish, if you let me,” Steve whispered, kissing his neck as he squeezed his ass through his braies.

Tony grinned, sliding his hands under Steve’s tunic so he could run his fingers against Steve’s warm chest, giving one of his nipples a playful pinch. 

Steve growled, crowding Tony against the cave. “You are going to pay for that, he said, pressing soft kisses to his collar bones.

Tony closed his eyes, the stale air causing him to feel a little dizzy. “Is that a threat?” he asked, as Steve continued his assault on his neck.

“It’s a promise,” Steve said in a deep voice which sent pleasant vibrations into Tony’s ear.

“Then I solemnly promise to tease you many, many more times for the rest of the day.”

Steve let out a fond sigh. “Dear husband, whatever shall I do with you?”

Tony bit down on his lower lip. “I have ideas,” he said, giving Steve a look. “But this may not be the right place.”

“Oh?” Steve asked as he cupped his left jaw. His thumb grazed Tony’s lips, which parted easily to grant him entrance. He leaned over, pressing his mouth against Tony’s, exploring it thoroughly as if in search of treasure.

It was a miracle they made it out of the labyrinth without passing out, stolen kisses and tight embraces in no way helping with the thin air. Finally, they fell onto the pile of blankets in a tangle of arms and legs, beside the remains of grilled fish and empty coconut husks.

“Are we really all alone?” Tony asked, marvelling at the white, sandy beach, completely empty. “Where are all the loving couples?” _Like us_ , he almost added.

Steve smiled at him. “There are hundreds of islands like this one. They will see our boat, and move on,” Steve said, explaining the unspoken code of conduct amongst honeymooning couples about the isles. 

Apart from the spirit of a legendary dragon, they had the whole island to themselves, which meant that there was nothing standing in the way of making their marriage real. 

Steve’s nimble fingers were already undoing the laces of Tony’s shirt, taking it off most unceremoniously and tossing it aside. As his hands brushed against the medallion, it glowed from his touch. 

Tony stiffened. “This – it stays on. Okay?” he asked. It was important it did, for he couldn’t control his powers without it, and he had no wish to hurt Steve. 

If Steve was upset by the request, he didn’t show it. “First time?” he asked.

“Yes,” Tony said, truthfully, a mix of emotions swirling in his gut - one half mourning the child forced to grow up, and the other yearning to become the man he was meant to be. “You?” 

“Yes,” Steve said, two spots of pink appearing on his cheeks.

Tony raised his brows, surprised by the revelation. He’d often heard about Valorian tendencies, how men of war tended to live each day like they were the last. “I didn’t think. I mean. I heard. Don’t you all…” he stammered, before trailing off in embarrassment. 

“You’re not wrong,” Steve said, softly. “It’s just - I wanted to wait.”

“For what?”

“The right person, the - the one – for me,” Steve told him quietly, when their eyes met. 

Tony couldn’t help the sound of surprise that escaped his lips. It was one thing _waiting_ when you were locked up in an ivory tower. But Steve had been out here, in the midst of all these attractive men and women... 

And he’d never been touched.

His eyes danced over Steve’s bare body, admiring his broad shoulders and arms, his muscled chest and his small waist. Wandering hands grazed the planes of Steve’s back, stroking his skin lightly, before coming to rest at the back of his neck.

Planting a row of kisses down Steve’s jawline toward his neck, Tony paused briefly to suck at the skin just below his ear. Steve shuddered and moaned, pulling Tony into his arms and onto his lap, where Tony could distinctly feel his husband's desire pressing up against him.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want Steve. He did. And it felt like Steve wanted him too. He just had to tell him who he really was under all that magic, but Steve's swollen lips were constantly on his, making it impossible to speak. 

“Steve, wait. We have to talk.”

“Really?" Steve asked, with a wry smile on his face. "Because there are lots of other things I’d rather be doing.”

“No, please - I - wait,” he repeated, more firmly this time.

“Oh,” Steve said, his blue eyes growing wide with understanding. “I’m sorry. I got carried away. I can wait - however long you need.” 

Tony kissed the forehead of his precious husband. Steve felt wonderful, in his arms, and Tony wished for him to stay there forever, cherished and safe from all the dangers of the world.

“Tesaurimea,” he murmured into the dip of Steve’s neck. “I want this. I want you. You have no idea.”

Steve gave him an amused smile. “Someday, you'll have to tell me what that means,” he said, referring to the endearment in Tony’s mother tongue.

“Someday,” Tony promised, retaining an air of mystery. “I will.”

Steve opened his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by a loud rumble of thunder. A flash of lightning drew their attention to the once-sunny skies, which were now covered with dark clouds. That was when he saw them, diving toward the beach at a dizzying speed.

_Dragons._

Three of the large beasts swooped down, heading their way, no doubt having seen the remains of their fire. Tony clenched his fists. There had been several dragon sightings of late. After the Battle of Shieldberg Bay, the children of Thanos had settled for raiding their mountains, forests and beaches, trailblazing everything in their path in search of those elusive gems.

Steve was already dressed, urging Tony to follow suit by tossing his clothes at him. “Come on,” he said, shield already on his arm.

“Where are we going?” Tony asked.

Steve pulled him to his feet, pulling his arms through the holes of his tunic. “The boat. We have to leave.”

Tony shook his head, planting his feet firmly into the sand, like a tree. “We have to fight.”

Steve looked at him as though he’d lost his head. “Normally, I’d agree,” Steve said, gripping his hand tightly. “But we’ve seen the damage these beasts can cause. There’s no other way out.”

“What about Tyranaksthon? Surely, he’ll defend his island. He’s not going to let these forests raze to the ground.”

“Tony, that’s a fable,” Steve said, trying to pull him away.

Tony squinted at the dragons, recognising them from the carvings. “They’re the dragons from the mural,” he observed, raising his arms to the storm clouds gathering above. “The prophecy - it’s happening today. It’s happening right now.”

“We don’t know that!” Steve pleaded, a note of desperation creeping into his voice.

“It is,” Tony said quietly, and he knew in his heart that he was right.

If Steve had a retort, he never got to say it, for the trio of beasts had made landfall.

The big one, with rough scales and spikes covering his body, spoke first. “Tony,” he boomed, stretching his bat-like wings outward in greeting.

Tony’s eyes swept over the line of razor-sharp ridges along his back toward the arrow-shaped spike at his tail. “Sorry,” he said, trying not to squeak. “Do I know you?” he asked, taking a second look at the vaguely-familiar reptilian face.

“Tony, Tony, Tony. You’re breaking my heart.”

“Obie?” he gasped, his mouth falling open. The last time he’d seen the disgraced knight, some ten years ago, he had _not_ been a dragon.

“It’s me, in the flesh,” Obie said, flashing his teeth. “Although these days, I go by _Habeastadino_.”

“A-beast-a-dino?” Tony said, butchering the pronunciation.

“Ha-BEAST-a-DINO,” Obie corrected. “It’s metaphorical!” 

“For what?” Tony cried, bewildered.

“It’s a name that strikes fear,” Obie boasted, “into the heart of anyone who hears it."

“Okay. Whatever you say,” Tony said, stifling a hysterical giggle. “It suits you. I mean - you’ve always been a little long in the tooth, but now you just look positively ancient.”

Obie laughed it off. “And you are all grown up. I presume this is the husband - King Steven?” he asked, turning to Steve.

Steve cleared his throat, nodding curtly in greeting. “Obadiah Stane,” he said, coldly. “You were, without a doubt, the worst knight I’ve ever heard of.”

“Ah!” Obie said, with a smug look on his face. “But you have heard of me!”

Steve ignored him, eyeing the other dragons instead. “Who are your friends?” he asked.

Obie turned to his left, drawing their attention to a lizard-like beast, covered in scales of highly-reflective chrome. “This is Prince Ivan of Anguisia,” Obie said, introducing one of them.

“Anthony Stark,” Ivan hissed, sticking out his tongue in greeting, before swinging his long tail, cracking it sharply against the ground, creating sparks. “You come from a family of murderers and thieves. Today, I will rewrite the true history of the Stark name with your freshly-spilled blood.”

“You know what? We should get together and hash it out,” Tony said, unsettled by Ivan’s baffling claims. He’d never known of any feud between the Anguisian royal family and his. Yet, the prince sounded wholly convinced in his assertions. 

“And you remember Lord Killian, don’t you?” Obie continued. “We call him Killiniladrach now.” 

Tony stiffened at the name, fixing a look of rage on the pyromancer, sentenced to death for unspeakable crimes against the crown. “You look pretty spry for a dead guy.” 

“So do you,” Killian said, shooting a giant fireball, which would have hit Tony, had it not been for Steve deflecting the fireball with his shield. 

As Steve moved to stand between them, Tony shouted from behind Steve’s shield, “I’m not afraid of you!” 

“Now, now, Tony,” Obie cut in. "Ten years is a long time to bear a grudge. You know he was just trying to heal those poor kids.” 

“Heal them?” Tony scoffed, glowering at Killian. “He turned them into living, breathing balls of fire. Father was right to condemn him. A shame he escaped.”

“And how is your father,” Stane continued, conversationally. “Does he ever think of me?”

“Nope,” Tony said. “No room in his heart for a _traitor_ ,” he added, flinging the word at Obie like one would a dagger. 

“That’s harsh. I was just trying to bring in the gold.”

“By starting a war.”

“You can’t possibly think we can really survive without a war. Swords and spears, armour and shields. That’s our legacy. And what we did, what I did, was keep the world from falling into chaos,” Obie said. 

“You keep telling yourself that,” Tony said. “Father was right about you. You’re insane. And that makes you dangerous.”

“How ironic! Coward Howard thought I was too dangerous to keep around his weapons. Yet, in banishing me from the kingdom, I've been given the greatest weapons of all.”

“Weapons?” Steve asked, looking cautiously at Obie.

“These swords,” Obie explained, flashing them a grin full of teeth. “My spears,” he continued, brandishing his talons in Tony’s face. “And of course, the shields,” Obie added, twisting his body to show off his scales gleaming in the light. 

Tony rolled his eyes. “All right. We’re done,” he muttered. “What do you want?” 

“We’re dragons, Tony. And we answer to Thanos. You should know very well what we’re after.” 

“If the emperor is after the heartstone, I don’t have it,” Tony told him. “I saw it once. Then he-who-shall-not-be-named hit me with a fireball. Don’t remember much after that,” he said.

“That’s too bad,” Stane said, sighing loudly. “Maybe Ivan can jolt your memory.”

Ivan smirked, lunging for Steve and picking up the king before either of them had time to react. He held a struggling Steve in the air, cursing loudly as Steve struck his knuckles with his shield. “Remember now?” Ivan growled, as he swung a sparking tail terrifyingly close to Steve's face. 

Tony's blood turned cold. “Put him down,” he said, quietly, holding his breath.

“Where is the stone?” Ivan boomed, forcing Tony to take a step back.

Tony racked his brains, his eyes desperately sweeping over the beach. “I don’t know,” he said. “But…” he trailed off, at the sight of the cave. 

“But?” Obie demanded, motioning for Ivan to lower Steve, much to Tony’s relief. 

“Someone might,” Tony said, struck by a brainwave.

If Tyranaksthon was really in that cave, a dragon like Obie could be just what it took to wake the sleeping beast. 

A pale-looking Steve seemed to guess at his plan, shaking his head and mouthing the word _no_.

“Oh?” Obie said, taking the bait, so all Tony had to do was to reel him in.

“You know what?” he said, looking at Obie with just the right amount of scorn “Scratch that. It’s such a bad idea.”

“Stop speaking in riddles!” Obie demanded, a ferocious roar escaping his mouth. 

“You see,” Tony said, “that’s exactly what I’m afraid of. That sort of attitude is not going to fly. We’re talking about Tyranaksthon, the king of dragons. And I hear he’s the most powerful one of all.”

Ivan laughed. “Thanos is the most powerful among us.”

“But has you-know-who ever fought the great Tyranaksthon?” Tony asked.

Obie laughed. “ _I_ told you that story. Tyranaksthon is a fairytale, just like _Jack and the Beanstalk_. And the golden goose.”

“Maybe,” Tony said. “But once upon a time, you also said dragons weren’t real, and if they were, they were nothing to be afraid of. Yet, here we are.”

“Here we are,” Obie said, with an amused smile. 

Tony looked at the caves on the other side of the beach. “His cave is just right over there,” Tony said, with a calculated air of nonchalance. “But if you’re scared...” Tony added, in a challenge - one that he knew Obie wouldn’t back down from.

Tony froze as Obie peered into his eyes, so close that Tony could feel his warm breath against his skin. “This had better not be a trick,” he warned, pressing a talon against his cheek.

The shield hit the underside of Obie's jaw, causing the dragon to step back. “Don’t touch him,” Steve growled, anger burning in his eyes even as he caught the shield on its return.

“Hey, hey, Steve,” Tony said, holding on to his elbow. “It’s okay. I know what I’m doing,” he lied. “Everything is going to work out. You just have to trust me.”

“Tony, don’t,” Steve said, his blue eyes shining with something Tony couldn’t quite make out.

Obie rubbed his jaw against his wing. Then, he walked calmly toward Steve, ripping the shield from Steve’s fingers. “Pretty trinket,” he said as he tossed it behind him. “But we want the stone!” he roared, causing the ground to tremble.

“All right. All right,” Tony said, in an effort to placate the dragon. “Your friends can come too, you know?” he suggested, not terribly fond of the prospect of leaving Steve in the company of Ivan and Killian. “I mean, there is safety in numbers.”

“Oh no, Tony. Ivan and Killian are going to stay right here, with your precious king. Keep him safe and warm,” Obie said, as Ivan secured Steve’s hands with his tail and Killian blew fireballs all around his head. “Take me to this - Ty-ran-ak-sthon,” Obie spat, pressing a sharp talon against the small of Tony's back. “And no one gets hurt. Lead the way. Now.”

“All right,” Tony said, as he forced his heavy legs to move. “Let’s go.”

The walk to took longer than expected, with Tony stumbling occasionally to keep up with Obie’s punishing pace.

“He doesn’t know, does he?” Stane said, once they were out of earshot. When Tony shook his head, he continued, “Go on, then. He’s not watching. Here’s your chance.”

“I don’t - what?” Tony sputtered.

A satisfied smirk sat on Obie’s lips. “After all these years, you still haven’t found a way to embrace your full potential,” Obie gloated. “How disappointing. I was looking forward to a fair fight.”

Tony ignored him, focusing on the caves, looking out for the right one.

“You don’t know your dragon name. Laugh all you want at mine, but at least I’ve got one.”

“How _did_ you get one?” Tony asked, genuinely curious. It was just as Yinsen had suggested then - that all dragons had a special name, one they had to speak aloud in order to complete the transformation, at least the first time.

“Thanos named me, when he made me like this.”

“Right,” Tony said. “Don’t suppose he’d deign to name his prodigal son right here. Wait, did I say _prodigal_? I must have meant _prodigious_ because I mean, that’s more me, right? And oh and yay! We’re here,” Tony said drily, picking up one of the lanterns they’d left at the entrance.

Obie looked uneasily into the mouth of the cave. “You first,” he said, pushing Tony ahead of him, keeping his sharp talons against his back.

They had only gone a few steps before encountering a problem - a big one.

“What’s wrong?” Tony asked. “Trouble fitting in?” he added, eyeing Obie’s enormous wings. “Should have gone easy on all the meat,” he added, looking pointedly at the dragon’s wide girth.

“I’m muscular,” Obie argued. 

Tony squinted at his body. “You’re one goat away from fat.” 

Obie let out a grunt. “You little prick.”

Tony shrugged. “At least I’m little,” he said.

Obie closed his eyes to concentrate on his transformation. It began with the black scales, which shrank in size, turning brown then olive, as it began to resemble human skin.

Tony felt for the blade in his pocket, never taking his eyes off his target as he waited for the right moment. When it came, Tony pulled out his hand and stabbed, shredding the skin under Obie’s neck.

Obie roared, scattering droplets of blood as he chased Tony inward, getting stuck again when his half-shrunk wings got caught at a narrow point.

“Oh, sorry,” Tony said, stabbing him on his shoulder. “Funny how annoying a little prick can be, huh?”

Obie growled with frustration, straining with the effort of reverting to his human form, but somehow managing to lunge at Tony and smack the lantern out of his hands.

Tony scrambled out of the way, narrowly avoiding a jet of fire from Obie’s palm, before ducking under a fireball to stab the shifter in his chest.

With a growl of pain, Obie reverted to his human form, looking even more hideous than Tony remembered from ten years ago. He chased him down, grabbing Tony by the neck and hurling him against a large stalactite.

Stifling a groan, Tony rolled away, sprinting deeper into the cave, for a moment regretting paying more attention to Steve’s mouth than the way around these winding tunnels. Without the lantern, he kept running into pillars, often slowing his progress, the soft blue glow of the medallion barely bright enough to illuminate his way to the exit.

Despite his larger size, Obie could create enough fire in his fingers to light the way, thus slowly closing the distance between Tony and himself.

When Tony bumped into a column for the third time, he’d had just about enough. “Oh Father, forgive me,” he mumbled as he pulled the medallion off his head, keeping it tucked safely behind Tyranaksthon’s plaque.

Tony raised a hand in front of him, clenching and unclenching his fist to create a bright flame, just enough to illuminate the complicated tunnels ahead. Adrenaline coursing through his veins, Tony kept a quick pace, sprinting through the tunnels in search of the exit. His new plan was to get out of the cave before Obie and find some way to seal its exits and entomb the knave. 

Sniffing the air, Tony followed the trail of fresher air to find his way out. It was no mean feat, but good luck and an excellent nose put him on the right series of paths. Tony could see brief flashes of lightning from the threatening skies. He was getting close. 

All he had to do was run.

He did, almost making it all the way out when thick hands grabbed his waist and tossed him onto the beach. He had barely scrambled to his feet before being kicked in the abdomen, falling onto the sand once more. Tony grabbed a fistful, flinging it at a cursing Obie as he approached. A swift backhand had him on the sand, with Obie looming over him, threatening to kick him into the ground. 

_This was it._

Tired of running, Tony raised his arms, crossing them in front of his face protectively. The heat travelled down his arms, gathering power where his arms crossed. As he brought them down by his sides, a bright ball of fire sped toward Obie, scorching his face. 

He heard the sound of maniacal laughter, as Obie slowly pulled himself up. His hair was partially burnt and his body was covered in stab wounds from Tony’s dagger. “Not bad, Tony. But not enough.”

Dark wings sprouted from Obie’s back, as his skin thickened to scales, blood still oozing from the deeper cuts. His talons lengthened into swords, ready to kill. While looking considerably weaker than when he first started, Obie was still a dragon and had every advantage over Tony.

Lying on the sand, Tony willed himself to do something. Anything. As long as it didn’t involve dying. He couldn’t die. He just couldn’t. What would happen to his sweet, precious Steve if something happened to him? And where was that stinking dragon when you really needed him? Was he making his entrance at the last second?

_Because this was it. This was the last, last second._

Tony jabbed his finger into the damn sand, spelling out the letters of the legendary dragon’s name in a last-ditch attempt to summon the beast. 

T Y R A N A K S T H O N

A gust of wind blew the sand at his face, forcing Tony to blink several times. When he looked down again, the letters had shifted.

A T Y R N A K S T H O N

Tony shook his head in disbelief as they changed again in front of his eyes. 

A N T Y R A K S T H O N

Large, wide eyes stayed open as the wind blew, shifting the letters, again, and again, and again. 

A N T H Y R A K S T O N

A N T H O N Y R A K S T

A N T H O N Y S T R A K

A N T H O N Y S T A R K

Gaping at the letters that remained on the beach, Tony felt all the air rushing out of his chest. “I am Tyranaksthon?” he said, invoking the transformation with the uttered words.

Without the medallion to suppress his magical abilities, he began to change. 

His skin itched and hardened as a mysterious red substance grew over them. _Scales_. The shoulder blades ached with unbearable pressure until they burst forth with gold-gilded wings. His chest filled with triumph which he released with a roar and a bolt of fire into the sky. Finally, he spread his wings, raising them up and bringing them down at the same time. 

He could fly!

Obie was on his tail, his experience making up for the late start. “That was dramatic,” Obie said, looking slightly put out, as he held on to one of Tony’s wings. “Tony?” he asked, twisting his neck to look at Tony’s face.

Tony turned his head. “You know who I am,” he said, startling himself with a loud, deep voice.

“Well done,” Obie said and knocked Tony sideways, forcing him to beat down hard with his wings to regain his balance. 

Tony roared on instinct, flames leaving his mouth as they danced toward Obie and the sky.

Obie froze mid-air, seemingly taken aback by the manoeuvre. 

Tony swerved sharply, slotting himself in and out of the gaps between towering columns emerging from the sea. As he turned back, he tried roaring again, and fireballs shot out of his mouth this time, narrowly missing Obie, who fired back almost immediately. 

The fight continued, Tony becoming more confident with each new manoeuvre he practised, but Obie becoming weaker from blood loss. “I am bigger, stronger and tougher than you in every way. Where is my disadvantage?” Obie roared, spreading his wings in a massive display of might. 

From behind the furious beast, Tony spied two growing specks in the sky. “You might want to look into the icing problem,” he said.

“Icing problem?” Obie asked, frowning, right before a descending dracanix unleashed a hailstorm at his wings, causing them to freeze up almost instantly. Unable to move his wings, Obie plunged toward the ground, where he landed with a loud crash in the midst of tall trees.

Tony dived after the falling dragon, and as he did, noticed the dracanix right behind and a smaller, colourful dragonet closing in on his other side. Tony landed beside Obie’s body, spreading his wings wide to brake, but still needing more than a few steps to come to a complete stop.

Obie’s body was in its human state, perhaps for energy conservation in his final moments. But the impact of his fall, coupled with the blood loss, proved to be too much. His blue eyes bulged out of their sockets, looking toward the sky, but he wasn’t moving, wasn’t breathing.

The clearest sign of his death was the scalestone, glowing green, suspended above his body. For a dragon was separated from their treasure only in death.

Drawn to its alluring glow, Tony reached for the gem, which floated slowly into his open palm. As he closed his fingers around it, it attached itself to him, the band of dragonbone breaking apart and coming back together as it went around his talon.

Ivan and Killian must have seen Obie's plunge, as both dragons were up in the air, circling the beach in search of his body. Tony was relieved that Steve wasn’t with them, which meant they’d left Steve behind, presumably on the beach and hopefully safe and sound. 

The frost dragon landed beside him in a rush of wings. “Tony? Tony? Tony? Tony? Tony? Tony!” he said. “Tones!”

Tony whipped his head around to stare at the dracanix. “Rhodey?” he asked, recognising the nickname and the telltale inflections of his beloved worrywart. Clumsily, he tried to put a forelimb around Rhodey, but they both struggled to keep their balance. With a laugh, Tony stepped back, content with rubbing his cheek against Rhodey’s chest.

Rhodey pulled back, checking him over for injuries. Satisfied that there weren’t any to be particularly concerned about, he nodded, pulling Tony to his feet.

“I can’t believe it,” Tony said, still laughing. “My knight in shining armour is a dragon in gleaming scales. Why didn’t you tell me?” he added, a tinge of hurt in his voice.

“King’s orders,” Rhodey said. “And you know how attached I am to my pretty head.”

“It’s a big one,” Tony teased.

“Don’t be jealous. I’ve got all this shimmer.”

“It’s subtle,” Tony agreed, smiling fondly at him.

“Yeah? It’s called being a badass.”

“How did you know we were in trouble?” Tony asked.

Rhodey looked at the dragonet flying toward them in a medley of twists and dives. “This guy has got a bit of a sense. He knows things before they’re about to happen.” 

As the dragonet landed gracefully beside them, Tony noticed how the dragon’s iridescent scales were still changing in colour. “You’re a drameleon. A long time ago, I had a drameleon friend too.” 

The drameleon looked at him excitedly, gently brushing a forelimb against Tony’s wings. “Your wings are made of dragonsilk. That would explain the rigidity-flexibility ratio, which gotta say, that’s awesome, man.”

“Peter?” 

The dragonet stopped, large brown eyes turning to Rhodey for help. “Who? That’s a made-up name, right?” he said, before turning back to Tony. “What kind of name is Peter Parker? I mean Peter, because you only said Peter, right?” 

Tony laughed. “Who else knows?”

Peter sighed, flashing a sheepish smile. “Your father. When he saved me from those poachers, I hadn’t learnt how to change to my human form.”

Tony gaped at this information. "Treekrapper?" he asked, recalling the dragonet playmate that used to live on castle grounds. Tony had been devastated when he stopped coming. His mother said the dragonet had to hide somewhere safe, because his people had started an anti-dragon campaign after an army of dracafyre had raided the Mines of Auria.

"Yes, it's me," the dragonet said and Tony would have recognised that grin anywhere. 

“You should have told me,” Tony chided gently, recalling how he wouldn't stop crying until his Uncle Ben and Aunt May introduced him to the little boy they recently adopted. "But also, I should have known," he added, with a little laugh. 

“I know," Peter said, biting his lip. "I still can't believe I kept this secret from you for so long. I hate keeping secrets. And it looks like after all these years, I’m still terrible at it.”

“You did great, Pete," Tony said and Peter beamed at the praise. "But you're going to keep going for a while more. I haven't told Steve,” he explained. 

“So what?” Rhodey asked. “You're just going to be Tyranaksthon then?”

“It’s a mouthful,” Peter complained.

“It needs some getting used to,” Rhodey agreed. “I mean we’ve always known you were special. But Tyranaksthon - you? Who would have thought?”

“Yeah, always thought you were going to be a regular pretty _Schellehead_ ,” Peter said, rubbing a wing over his Tony's bright scales.

“Schellehead,” Rhodey murmured thoughtfully. “Yeah, that would work.” 

“Okay, whatever," Tony mumbled, ending the conversation as he spotted Ivan and Kiliian closing in on them. "We've got incoming,” he said, taking off, with Rhodey and Peter close behind him. 

“They’re not stopping,” Peter observed.

Rhodey nodded. “Neither are we.”

They clashed in a tangle of wings and talons, and Rhodey and Killian sought each other out in a dance of ice and fire, leaving Tony and Peter to battle Ivan.

To even the odds stacked against them, Killian sent a fireball toward the beach, torching a coconut tree and starting a fire.

“Steve!” Tony cried, pointing his wing at the king, who was tied to a tree right beside the burning ones.

“I’ve got this,” Peter shouted. “Go save the king.”

“Thanks,” Tony shouted, already diving. Peter could fly faster than any dragon he'd ever met, but if he didn't free Steve from the ropes, and soon, he would be in trouble. 

“Hey,” he said, when he landed, lowering his voice so as not to frighten Steve.

“It’s you,” Steve said, wearing a brave face, but Tony could see his hands shaking.

“It is me,” Tony said. “You don’t have to be afraid. I won’t hurt you.”

“I’m not afraid,” Steve insisted.

“Good, good,” Tony said in a soothing voice. “You’re very brave. I’m going to cut these ropes off you. Is that all right?”

“Yes,” Steve said, swallowing hard.

Tony nodded, beginning to slash at the magic ropes with his talons, slicing them easily into pieces. Then, he picked up the shield, holding it out to Steve, who was rubbing his chafing wrists.

“Here’s your - trinket,” Tony said, placing it over Steve’s arm. Come on, we have to go.”

“Where?” Steve asked.

“The boat. You have to get off this island,” Tony said.

“Where’s Tony? I can't leave without him,” Steve said, looking everywhere but at his enormous body and large wings, shimmering with scales of red and gold.

Tony exhaled slowly, amazed by the smoke trickling out of his own nostrils. “Tony - he’s inside.”

Steve’s gaze followed the lines of his neck toward his chest, resting for a few moments on his abdomen, before his bright blue eyes widened in horror. The king drew his sword, holding it in front of him.

“I didn’t eat him,” Tony added in a hurry, heaving a sigh of relief when the king lowered his sword. “Tony is fine. Can't explain right now. Besides, I don't think you'll ever believe me.”

“Who are you?” Steve asked.

“I’m a friend,” Tony assured him. “I will protect you and keep you safe.”

“And Tony too?”

“You have my word. Now, please get on the boat,” Tony added, urgency creeping into his voice as he spotted Ivan heading their way.

“Wait,” Steve said, petulantly putting his foot down to the sound of a deafening crack.

Ivan was right behind Tony, conjuring up a thunderstorm. A crack of his tail and one of the trees split right down the middle. Another split more trees into two.

“Get in the boat. Get in the boat now,” he said, trying to sound commanding, as desperate tears gathered in his eyes.

Ivan struck the boat, and their mouths fell open as it went up in flames.

Tony heard a whizzing sound on his left, then his right. Ivan’s tail was sparking up and coming down upon him. Tony froze, rooted to the ground, but Steve kept moving, in a medley of forward rolls and dives, till he was in front of him, shield in hand, absorbing the impact of the lash.

From above Ivan, Peter dived, kicking Ivan’s head with his feet, causing the chrome dragon to stumble backward. Steve hurled his shield at Ivan’s head, hitting him again, right where Peter had kicked. 

The shield glowed, even as it returned to Steve’s hand. “It’s never done this before,” Steve breathed, his eyes going wide with wonder. 

“That thing does not obey the rules of Science,” Peter said, landing beside them. “That means - it’s magic!” The dragonet tapped against the shield with a talon, his eyes widening in awe. “It’s dragonbone, of the celestial variety - the really, really rare stuff that stores and releases the magic it encounters.”

“Tony made it for me,” Steve said, almost preening.

“Yeah. We don’t really need to start a conversation,” Tony said, directing their attention to Ivan who was coming back for them.

“You have a lightning tail. That is awesome, dude,” Peter shouted, while jumping away from the burning sparks that nearly scorched his feet. 

Tony and Peter took off for the skies, eager to lure Ivan away from Steve even though the stubborn man was still running after them trying to hit the dark prince with his shield. Ivan soared over them, flapping his heavy storm wings. Caught in the downdraft, Tony was forced toward the beach in a hard landing.

“You okay?” Steve yelled, eyes still on the fight, trying to find a good moment to assist Peter.

“No!” Tony yelled back, as he picked himself up. “I’m hungry! I need a sandwich!”

“Didn’t know dragons ate sandwiches,” Steve shouted and threw the shield at Ivan, but managed only to chip a sea stack.

“Yeah, platters of them.”

Peter, a really excellent flier, managed to avoid getting caught in Ivan’s squalls. Instead, he was leading Ivan toward the towering columns of stone rising from above the sea, effortlessly manoeuvring through the tight spaces under arches, between columns. His compact and nimble body allowed him to fly circles round the larger dragon, who began to tire and slow down.

“This is where I go kick ass!” Tony said, leaping off after Peter and Ivan as they flew past. He stayed hot on Ivan’s tail, ready to support Peter should the moment arise.

“I just thought of something,” Peter called out as Tony pulled up beside him. “Do you remember that really old book, _Thor and the Midgard Serpent_?”

“Oh, you mean _my_ really old book?” Tony asked. 

Spots of pink appeared on Peter’s green cheeks. “In my defence, you already had it memorised,” Peter argued. 

“But the drawings,” Tony said, remembering the illustration of the titular hero, Thor, besting the serpent by tricking him into swallowing its tail. It reminded him of what Peter could do with his tail, stretching it infinitely — 

Like a rope.

Knowing glances were exchanged. “I think you’re on to something,” Tony said, seeing from the corner of his eye how Steve was running after them on foot, undeterred by their flying speeds. 

Peter landed on one of the coal-coloured sea stacks, changing the colour of his scales to blend right in. “It’s a stretch,” Peter warned.

“All right, Pete. Time to earn your keep,” Tony said. He sped toward Peter, stretching his neck and throwing down his wings and body to pull up in a vertical climb. Ivan mimicked Tony, extending his body length-wise right beside the column.

Peter, who’d already stretched his tail to thrice its original length, coiled himself around Ivan’s lower body, spiralling around Ivan’s torso and binding it to the sea stack. 

Ivan bellowed, lightning shooting out of his eyes and tail as he tried breaking out of Peter’s hold on to him. 

“Hey, Schellehead, what now?” Peter asked, desperately trying to keep the struggling dragon from moving.

Tony flashed him an incredulous look. “This was your plan.”

“What plan? I was just winging it!” Peter shouted. 

Tony made a sound of frustration. “You greenhorn,” he shouted. “Give me back my Rhodey!” 

“Excuse me?” Peter shouted back. “You got your horns moments ago!”

Tony whipped his head around, looking for something, chains or ropes, to restrain Ivan, frowning at the sight of Steve scaling a sea stack toward them. He looked tiny on the large face of the rock, and vulnerable.

_Why couldn’t that stubborn man just stay far away from danger, where he would be safe?_

Eyes sweeping around the beach, Tony heard the sparks before he saw the flash – in Ivan’s eyes, pointed directly at him.

“The eyes!” Peter shouted in warning.

Instinctively, Tony drew his wings to cover his face, bracing himself for the strike - which never came. For Steve had landed in front of him, blocking the twin lightning bolts with his shield. His arms were straining with effort, his feet firmly planted to the roof of the stack.

The shield was glowing even brighter and sparks flew around it till lightning reversed toward its source - Ivan’s head.

The brightness was blinding and for a second, Tony didn't see a thing, but then Peter fell into a heap, collapsing into the space that Ivan had been. Behind him on the rock wall was a dark stain of ash and a light smoke was coiling towards the sky. The chrome dragon appeared to have vaporised without a trace.

Steve, exhausted, began swaying from side to side and Tony rushed to catch him right before he fell off the stack. Landing on his back, Steve put his arms around Tony, letting Tony glide down toward the beach, beside the entrance of Tyrant’s Cave.

Peter didn’t follow, shouting a farewell to them as he hurried to assist Rhodey, who was chasing an escaping Killian.

Finally, they were alone.

For a while, they sat there, side by side, giving Steve a chance to catch his breath. Tony’s ears picked up the tell-tale sound of trickling blood. “You’re hurt,” Tony said, looking closely at Steve.

“Yeah,” Steve mumbled. “It’ll heal.” 

Despite the darkening evening sky, Tony could see a deep gash on Steve’s arm. “Steve, you’ve been clawed – by a dragon,” Tony said, his heart aching. “I don’t think the super warrior potion is going to work on that.”

“I – Wait. How do you know my name? And how do you know about that? The potion?” Steve asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Panicking, Tony cursed himself inwardly.

“Who are you?” Steve probed. 

“It – It’s just Tony. I got to know about it through him.”

“I don’t understand,” Steve said in a soft voice. “Why would he tell you that? He never told me he knew you,” he added, his mouth tight. 

Tony opened his mouth and closed it. He ought to tell Steve. Everything. From the day he’d been cursed leading up to right then. But Steve looked shaken and traumatised. And it had been a long day.

He had to wait for a better time. 

“I can help,” Tony said, remembering how a dragon’s saliva could heal wounds. Picking up Steve’s arm with one of his forelimbs, he studied it closely before turning his gaze back to Steve. “I’m going to heal you. Is that all right?” he asked.

Steve nodded, allowing Tony to take his arm. 

Tony lowered his head, laving the wound with his tongue. It took a while for Steve to relax, for the tension to flow out of his shoulders and his back. At one point, he closed his eyes, allowing a soft purr to escape. Without needing to look, Tony could feel the wound shrinking as new tissue formed. 

“It’s working!” Steve gasped, looking impressed.

“It is,” Tony agreed, relief and exhaustion coursing through his body. Using magic was taking up a lot of his energy and Tony had never felt more tired in his life. “Look, it’s been a long day. I’m going back into the cave to get Tony out. Then, I’ll be out of the way. Okay?”

“He’s inside,” Steve said, smiling softly at him. 

“Yes,” Tony said, giving him a wan smile. 

“Will we be seeing you again?” Steve asked, tugging gently on his wing as Tony was turning away.

Tony nodded his head, careful not to hit Steve with his horns. “This is not goodbye.” 

“Thank you,” Steve said, standing on his toes as if he was going to kiss Tony’s nose but he changed his mind at the last second. Awkwardly, Steve pulled away. “Sorry, I don’t know what’s come over me,” he said, colour high on his cheeks. 

Tony swallowed a giggle, before licking the side of Steve’s face. The king’s hand flew to his face and stared at him in shock. Waving, Tony turned to step inside the cave. All Tony wanted to do was to find his medallion, and become human again. But the way back proved to be even more difficult, with his eyelids drooping and his feet getting heavier with each step he took. 

“Ow!” he exclaimed, when he bumped into something.

He heard Steve’s clear voice reverberating through the cave. “Everything okay?” 

“Yes, Yes,” he said quickly. “Ow!” he shouted again, when his head hit a protruding rock this time. 

“All right. That’s it. I’m coming in.” 

“No, don’t. It’s dark.” 

“I’ll bring a lamp,” Steve said.

Upon hearing the light footsteps padding into the cave, Tony quickened his pace, his head spinning. He had to get to the medallion before Steve found him. And there was still the problem of his clothing, which had ripped when he had changed. 

“Tony?” Steve called. “You in there?”

Tony avoided the question, staying focused on finding the medallion.

 _There it was -_ glowing faintly from behind Tyranaksthon’s plaque. Pressing the medallion between his palms, he could feel its magic flowing into his body. He barely managed to get it over his thick neck, letting the magic flow directly into his heart. 

It was working.

The scales on his arms began to vanish, turning back into his honey brown skin, the result of a few days of bathing in the sun. He felt the horns receding into his head, the teeth getting shorter, his tail disappearing into his body.

And just in time too.

Steve’s worried face appeared around the corner. “Tony?” he called, holding up the torch in his hand.

Tony covered his eyes, blinded by the sudden burst of light flashing in the darkness, calling him home. He felt the tension leaving his body as he sank into a warm pair of arms, allowing the fatigue to take over.

“Steve,” he whispered, as it all went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you find all the anagrams? :D  
> Tyranaksthon (Anthony Stark)  
> Habeastadino (Obadiah Stane)  
> Killiniladrach (Aldrich Killian)  
> Treekrapper (Peter Parker)
> 
> Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. I've been suffering from health issues and have been ordered to sleep more, giving me very little time to edit and post. Hope everyone else is doing well! Thank you for reading!


	5. I know your secret.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Tony host some surprise visitors, who explain the origin of the dragonstones. Tony reveals his secrets with disastrous results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! This is the fifth chapter of this story. Thank you to the amazing Serinah for all her wonderful suggestions, which made this so much better!!! 💜 Thank you, also, to the lovely AvengersNewB for bearing with me and all my whining. I lob you both! 💜
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's been reading this story and for all the lovely comments last chapter. They made me so so so happy, you have no idea. This story has a few more twists and turns but I hope you will continue to enjoy it. <3

Spring arrived at their home in a vase of fresh flowers, which sat among plates of steak and eggs, salad and fruit, right in the middle of the dining table that was set for two. Bright sunlight filtered through the windows, but Tony remained in his bedroom, likely still asleep from another late night. 

Steve frowned at Tony’s bedroom door, which remained closed as a wave of irritation coursed through his body. He resolved to have words with Lord Strange to tell him in no uncertain terms to release Tony at a decent hour from now on, dragon training be damned.

How Tony could bring himself to be involved in the training of dragons remained a mystery, and Steve was both envious and frustrated that his husband had volunteered himself for such a treacherous job. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Tyranaksthon - he did. The dragon was caring and kind. More importantly, he kept Tony safe the other day on the island, and for that, he had Steve’s eternal gratitude.

It was just that he missed Tony - a lot.

With more time on his hands, Steve had finally finished his little project, which he kept out of sight in a nondescript wooden box. It was most unremarkable, very modest compared to the wondrous gifts the crown prince must have received over the years, but there was more to it than met the eye. 

It had taken years of trial and error, but art and science had come together and enabled him to create the perfect gift for a perfect husband. He would have given it to him too, if not for the fact that Tony was hardly home. 

It looked like the only way to see more of his dear husband was to get involved in dragon training himself. And it was a good thing that he was getting used to their presence in Shieldberg. He saw the dragons often enough, practising formations by the beach, strangely with Tony nowhere in sight. And while Steve resented their monopoly on Tony’s time and attention, watching their graceful manoeuvres had soon become the highlight of his day.

The dracafyre was especially stunning, with his gleaming red and gold scales and beautiful bursts of fire. For some reason, he reminded Steve of Tony in the morning, with his hair tousled and eyes bleary with sleep, looking adorable in his oversized robes.

“Good morning, beloved,” Tony yawned as his arms closed around him from behind, giving rise to the alarming sounds of cracking joints. 

Steve turned to kiss his forehead, frowning at the fresh bruises on Tony’s shoulders and arms. Biting his tongue, Steve forced a smile for his beaming husband, all the while fuming at Strange for allowing this to happen. 

“Something smells delicious,” Tony said, brushing past Steve on his way to the kitchen. “Bread rolls,” he said, peering into the oven with a happy sigh. “What did I do to deserve a husband like you?”

“Let’s see. You’re clever, brave, handsome and kind -”

“Loving,” Tony added, pressing his warm lips to Steve’s cool cheek.

Steve felt his face getting warm. “I’ll put it on the list,” he mumbled.

“A list?” Tony asked, his eyes twinkling brightly. “Of all the things you like about me?”

“Yes,” Steve said, giving Tony a smile. “It’s a long one, and growing too. Every time I think I have you all figured out, you go right ahead and pull off another surprise.”

“Oh,” Tony said, his face falling. “I do have something I need to talk to you about, and I’ve put it off way too long already.”

“What is it?” Steve asked as he turned to pick up the wooden box from the mantel. “Because I, too, have something to share.”

Tony’s face brightened as he spotted the box in Steve’s hand. “Is that for me?” he asked, reaching for it.

Steve laughed as he held it above him, just out of Tony’s reach. “Yes,” he said. “But first, you were saying?”

Tony’s face took on a serious expression. “It’s about the dragon,” he whispered.

Steve wasn’t even surprised. It was always about the dragon. That was all Tony ever seemed to talk about. “Yes? Which one?” he asked, trying not to let his irritation show. 

“Just - the one.”

“The one?” Steve asked, feeling his brows coming together. “Do you mean Tyranaksthon?”

Tony nodded slowly. “Promise that you won’t be mad,” he said in a small voice. 

The look on Tony’s face - shy and uncertain, was one that made him soft. “I promise. I could never be mad at you,” he said.

Tony’s face melted into a relieved smile. “Oh good, that’s great. Because, you see, the dragon, he’s - I - he’s - STRANGE!” Tony shouted, his eyes large and unblinking as he stared over Steve’s shoulder. 

Steve turned around just in time to see a fiery circle appearing inside their home, and the Sorcerer Supreme exiting from it.

“Dude, we’ve talked about this,” Tony huffed, glaring at the intruder.

“Yes, but your door was open, so I assumed that…” Strange trailed off, eyes darting between the main door and Tony. “You wanted to know when help was coming.”

“Help?” Steve asked sharply.

“You both should take a look.”

Clouds were gathering outside, which channelled the sunlight into a swirl of rainbow rays, twisting together to form a funnel of white light. It glowed with the promise of celestial beings, of elegant power and pulsing light. When light faded and winds calmed, Steve found himself looking at two men with the most elaborate headpieces he’d ever seen.

“Stephen Strange!” the man with the winged helmet thundered, his golden locks and red cape billowing behind him in the winds.

“Thor Odinson,” Strange said, flying toward the duo in his own cloak. “You can put the hammer down.”

Tony’s eyes were huge, shifting from Thor to his companion and back again, and Steve was feeling a little starstruck himself. Those guys came from legend. They were basically gods.

“Friend Stephen! This is my brother Loki, prince of Asgard, god of mischief, master of deceit,” Thor continued, beaming brightly as he stepped aside to reveal a man with an impressive set of horns.

“You forgot the _rightful heir_ ,” Loki supplied helpfully.

Thor chuckled. “And the rightful heir - to Jotunheim.”

Without waiting for an introduction, Thor took hold of Steve’s hand and clasped it warmly. “Steve Rogerson,” he said, thumping him on the back. “Word of your valiant deeds have travelled far and wide across the nine realms. Today, I am honoured to make your acquaintance.”

“Surely, it must be mine,” Steve said, in awe of the fact that Thor even knew his name, sort of.

“And this must be Prince Anthony,” Thor continued, as he turned to Tony. “We warmly welcome you to our ranks.”

“Your ranks?” Tony asked, breathlessly. 

“We’re the guardians of the nine realms, the keepers of the stones,” Thor said, looking at them meaningfully. “Dragonstones,” he elaborated, when they stared blankly at him. “I understand that three of them have recently come into your possession.”

Strange nodded. “We should talk inside.”

“There’s breakfast,” Steve said, stretching out his arm toward the door in what he hoped was a welcoming gesture. “If you guys eat that sort of thing.” 

They followed Steve into the house, gathering around the dining table, while Steve and Tony found chairs and tableware to accommodate their visitors. 

Tea?” Steve offered, holding out their good teapot to their seated guests.

Thor frowned. “I don’t drink tea,” he said.

Tony’s eyes widened at that revelation “What do you drink?” he asked.

“Not tea.”

“I’ll take tea,” Strange said and before Steve could respond, the teapot was out of his hand. It tipped, allowing the steaming beverage to trickle out of its spout and into the sorcerer’s cup. 

“I’ll have some of whatever you’re having,” Thor decided, having caught a whiff of Tony’s cup.

“Coffee?” Tony asked, reaching for the coffee pot.

“Yes, please,” Thor said, as he held up his cup. 

“And you, sir, would you like a drink?” Steve asked, addressing Loki, who shook his head.

“No drink? You sure? We’re all having one.” Tony said, glancing at Thor who was slurping his coffee noisily, clearly enjoying the beverage.

With a snap of his fingers, Loki conjured up a goblet of wine, which rapidly filled to the brim and overflowed into a couple of vipers. 

“Ooh, serpents!” Thor exclaimed, putting down his cup to reach for one just as it vanished. “I’m sorry,” Thor said, as he wiped up the spilled coffee with the back of his hand. “I love snakes,” he explained. “But I’ll stop beating about the bush,” Thor added, when he noticed their eyes on him. 

The thunder god cleared his throat. “We’ve been searching through the cosmos for stardust and some magic colourful dragonstone things. That’s when we came across a path of death and destruction, which led us all the way here.”

Smirking at the rather simplistic explanation, Loki cut in. “Have you ever heard the tragedy of Rex Divinus?”

Steve had heard about it even though he’d forgotten some of the details, and there was that statue of the dragon in the great hall of the Sanctum Sanctorum. 

“No?” Loki asked, when no one responded, and went on, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “It might be just a story, but I’ve learned that if you tell a story to the universe so cosmically perfect, for a single, shining moment, the world would believe it - and that is all that matters.” 

“Thank you, Brother,” Thor whispered. “And that is _why_ you should let me tell it.”

“No, I don’t think I will,” Loki answered with an enigmatic smile. “It’s a good story, but the way you _tell_ it lacks a certain flourish, because that’s all you do. A lot of _telling_ and not much else, unlike this,” he said, raising his hands dramatically toward the ceiling. 

As the room darkened, the image of a magnificent dragon appeared in front of them, suspended over the dining table, right between the teapot and the bowl of fresh fruit. 

“All right,” Thor said, leaning back in his chair to enjoy the _show_. “You _are_ the god of stories. Please, go ahead,” he said. 

Loki paused for a few dramatic seconds, waiting for all eyes to be on him. He began his tale, speaking softly, eloquently, in a voice full of drama and suspense. As he spoke, he moved his hands, bringing his words to life in a display of bright colours and lights. 

“No one quite knows how Rex came to be. Some say that six elemental crystals collided in space, creating a magic egg, and out of this egg, Rex was hatched. The elements bent to his will, allowing him to manipulate fire, water, wind and lightning at his command. He could hide in plain sight, influence others, take down a whole kingdom in one night. You’d never see him coming.” 

Steve blinked at the display of colourful, moving lights meant to demonstrate Rex’s incredible powers. It was a mesmerising sight, one so unreal that Steve thought he had to be hallucinating. “What’s in this tea?” he mouthed to Tony from across the table, when they exchanged a look. 

Tony looked just awestruck as he was. “Just tea. With a little honey,” he mouthed back. 

“It is good tea,” Strange said calmly as he took a sip.

There was another pause, then Loki’s rich, silky voice lured them back to the story, with enticing new images of its setting and secondary characters. “A benevolent dragon, Rex craved neither power nor riches, embracing a solitary life in the great lakes of Vanaheim. Sadly, kings and nobles, warriors and mages from all over the nine realms coveted his abilities, desiring his powers for themselves. And one day, the humans decided to combine their powers to create a monster to challenge Rex’s powers.”

A second dragon, covered in shimmering purple scales appeared above a sleeping Rex, his sharp claws poised to strike. “They named him Thanos, because he was created to bring death to the greatest creature who ever lived, to collect prized parts of his body to serve as relics of magic. Knowing that he was no match against the celestial dragon, Thanos plotted to slay Rex in his sleep. As part of the ultimate revenge, Rex prevented Thanos from getting his hands on them by turning his decaying organs into hundreds of crystals, which rained down on the universe.” 

“The dragonstones,” Tony breathed, in an awed voice, turning his palms outward to catch the colourful lights descending upon them as the images of Rex and Thanos faded from view. 

Loki nodded. “Rex’s soul continues to seek revenge from beyond his fiery grave, sowing discord between king and noble, human and mage, as they wage wars over his legacy, decimating entire populations in the process. Having no use for Thanos, the humans attempted to get rid of him, banishing him to the underworld, where he’d stayed for a number of millennia, before his eventual escape. His time away has only made him vengeful. The Mad Dragon has sworn to collect the dragonstones, to wage war on all mankind.”

“Is that the end of the story?” Steve asked.

“Not yet. We’ve only just got to the intermission,” Loki explained. “The rest is yet to be written. But the roles have been cast and it’s time for the actors to take their places on the stage, before we raise the curtains once more.” 

“Wow,” Tony said, the sunlight dancing in his eyes. “That is some story!” 

Thor grinned at his excitement. “It’s not just a story, my friend. It’s legend, and they ring with truth.” 

“As always, Brother,” Loki said, “you are awash with keen insight.” 

“Indeed,” Strange said. “It is the only story that accounts for the dragonstones in our universe.” With a clap of his hands, the sorcerer brought forward the images of six different-coloured crystals, positioning them directly over the flower vase. They lighted up as they were named: the bloodstone, mindstone, fangstone, scalestone, iristone and the heartstone. “For centuries, many have tried to collect the stones, be it for noble reasons or personal gain, but no being has come close to wielding the powers of Rex, except for maybe Thanos himself.” 

“When Thanos broke out of hell, he found sympathy and a new home in the Kingdom of Anguisia,” Loki said, wiggling his fingers to bring back the purple dragon, positioning him right above them. “He’s a plague. He invades kingdoms, takes what he wants, wiping out populations in the process. All the invasions in the last two centuries - they were all him.” 

Tony’s eyes nearly bulged right out of his head. “Two hundred years. What’s _our_ timeline?”

Strange flicked his wrist, moving five of the six crystals in the direction of the purple dragon. The crystals attached themselves to his talons, three on one hand and two on the other, as the Sorcerer Supreme closed his fist. “Thanos has five of the six stones. That makes him the strongest creature in the whole universe. If he gets his hands on the heartstone…” 

Loki waved his arms, and they saw the conjured dragon reaching for the last gem, glowing bright and purple above the middle of the dining table. When the beast clapped his forelimbs, bringing the stones together, it caused an explosion of white light, which rained down on them in sparks. 

“He can destroy life on a scale hitherto undreamt of,” Strange finished quietly.

They continued to speak, discussing Thanos and his acquisitions, trading stories to note a pattern of increasing violence. Steve learnt that the bloodstone had been the tyrant’s first, and he’d won it fair and square from Dormammu in a game of chess. The mindstone was inherited from his adoptive brother, King Maxwell, when the dragon king had passed. 

After that though, his thirst for power made him vicious.

More recently, he’d pulled the fangstone from the mouth of Fin Fang Foom as the imperial bled out. He’d ransomed the scalestone from Drax the Destroyer while using his daughter as leverage. Having failed to capture Shieldberg, Thanos’ fleet had sailed to Attilan, invading the country and raiding its vaults for the iristone. 

“The fact that he has his eye on Valoria, indicates that the stone he seeks might be here. Might you by any chance know something of it?” Loki asked, turning to Steve for an answer. 

“What does it look like?” Steve asked, schooling his face into a neutral expression despite the sinking feeling in his stomach. 

“It’s purple, looks like an orb,” Thor said. “You’ll know it when you see it. It glows. It’s a common belief - that the heartstone only appears to _the one_.”

Steve rested his cheek on his hand, looking thoughtfully at Thor. “So, depending on whom you ask, it’s either Tony or Tyranaksthon,” he mused.

“Exactly,” Thor said, his answer drowned out by the loud sounds of Tony choking on his coffee. 

The prince got quite red in the face, drawing concerned looks from the entire breakfast party. 

“You don’t know,” Loki said, looking at Steve as the corners of his lips twitching upward into a smile.

Strange gave Tony a look of gentle admonishment. “I told you to tell him,” he said.

“Tell me what?” Steve demanded, feeling slightly put out at being the last to know something about his husband.

Tony swallowed, looking visibly uncomfortable at being put on the spot. “Look! I’ve been trying! But we never get time alone. And whose fault is that?” Tony retorted, all the while glaring at Strange. 

Steve leaned forward and took Tony’s hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. This had to be the secret Tony was trying to share with him, something he preferred to address in private. 

Clearing his throat, Steve changed the subject with as much grace as he could. “So, Thanos has five stones. And Tony has three,” he summarised, looking at Thor.

“Four,” Thor corrected, opening a cube-shaped box, to present a blue gem to Tony. “The iristone, one of two in existence. I present to you for safekeeping. 

Tony was taken aback. “But why?” he asked. “It would surely be safer with you.” 

“That it would be, but Thanos already has an iristone of his own, so he won’t be seeking it out. Besides, you are the chosen one. The stones are drawn to one another. Each stone you add to your collection increases your chances of finding the next. Have you not yet realised how quickly they’ve been turning up in recent weeks?”

“Yes,” Tony said, allowing Thor to place the iristone over his finger, the band of dragonbone shifting around his finger for a perfect fit. 

The sight of the incredibly rare iristone around Tony’s finger filled Steve with so much pride that he barely noticed the dread closing in, like an icy grip on his heart. It was a selfish notion — that Tony’s importance in a cosmic destiny would somehow relegate Steve’s importance to him, that their paths would one day diverge. 

It didn’t even matter that the universe at stake, because to Steve, Tony was the sun, the moon and all of the stars. 

Abruptly, he got out of his chair, excusing himself to check on the oven that was bursting with the aroma of freshly-baked rolls. They were ready, as expected, so he placed the disc-shaped buns on a large tray to serve their guests with. Together with the eggs and steak, it would make a satisfying meal. 

Tony beamed as Steve came around with the tray, and helplessly, Steve found himself smiling back, getting lost again in those warm, gold eyes. They were still gazing into each other’s eyes when Strange picked up a bread roll. 

“Not bad,” Strange said, after taking a bite. “A little bit chalky.”

“Give it back,” Tony huffed, snatching the bun out of the sorcerer’s hands and taking a bite from it. “Steve has the best buns in the house,” he declared defensively.

“What it needs is meat,” Strange said.

Steve frowned. “Tony doesn’t like meat.”

“He does now,” Strange muttered. “You are growing well,” he added, nodding approvingly as his beady eyes went over Tony’s shoulders and arms, before patting the prince on his back. 

Steve bit back a growl, resisting the urge to grab the offending limb to throw the sorcerer out of a window. 

Strange, oblivious to his faux pas, lifted his left hand and the bun rose into the air, breaking neatly into two layers with a flick of his right wrist. The bottom half of the bun landed on a plate, followed by a slice of cheese, a slab of steak and some fresh lettuce, topped only by the rest of the bun.

“Try this,” Strange said, offering the abomination to Tony.

Tony bit into the sandwich, and a look of delight spread across his face. “Best thing I’ve had my whole life.”

Watching Tony smile, the air rushed out of lungs as his heart swelled to twice its size, causing his chest to puff up with pride. Even though that meddling sorcerer had assembled the sandwich, it was he and he alone who had prepared the ingredients.

“I hereby christen this delicious creation, the king of sandwiches, the shieldberger,” Thor announced, after having a bite of his, raising his sixth cup of coffee in a toast.

“To the guardians,” Strange said, above the clinking of their mugs.

Well-satisfied, their guests headed back into the sunshine to say their farewells. Thor and Loki were off to Attilan, to assist Black Bolt in driving out the invaders, hoping to miraculously recover the iristone that had been stolen. Their departure left behind a circle of burnt grass, right where they’d been standing.

“That man has no regard for lawn maintenance,” Tony complained. “I’m gonna miss him though. And you are going to miss me.” 

“I will miss you, Tony,” Steve agreed, tightening his grip on Tony’s hand at the sight of Strange beckoning Tony over. 

“I’m just going to the temple for half the day,” Tony said, giving him a reassuring smile. “I’ll be back for tea.” 

“You should come back for breakfast,” Steve said.

“We’ve had breakfast,” Tony reminded him. 

“We’ve had one, yes. What about second breakfast? Elevenses? Luncheon? All those other things that precede tea?” Steve said, refusing to let go.

Tony leaned over to kiss his cheek. “I have to go,” he said, as Strange opened one of his portals.

“Go on then,” Steve huffed in an attempt to hide his disappointment. “Get on the wagon and meet your dragon.”

Tony giggled. “See you at tea, your majesty.”

“Later, later, you shifty traitor.”

Steve could hear Tony’s bright laugh from far away. “Always a pleasure, my precious treasure.”

 _We’re not through! I love you!_ Steve wanted to say.

But Tony had stepped into the portal.

And he was gone.

***

Steve gently ran the brush through the brown coat of his horse, meticulously brushing away the dirt and grit that might have gathered. He worked in silence, and the only sound in the stables was that of the swishing brush. 

Tea had come and gone, with no sign of Tony, and the food was getting cold, so Steve packed a basket of food, more of those shieldbergers that Tony had taken a liking to and a handful of blueberries, deciding to go to him instead.

It was a beautiful afternoon and Steve enjoyed the wind in his hair and the sounds of hooves thundering down the pastures, kicking up dirt as budding trees whizzed by them. There were no words between rider and horse, just the occasional squeeze from Steve, answered by gentle swishes of the stallion’s tail.

With the Sanctum Sanctorum located in Greenwich Village, just north of Shieldberg, it didn’t take long before Steve spotted its jewelled spire peeking out from behind tall trees. While it looked alluring in the light, displayed in such a prominent position, Steve knew that a litany of spells prevented its theft.

Riding into the courtyard, it was even more apparent how confident the Sorcerer Supreme was in his magical powers, leaving his domain completely unguarded, relying purely on spells to shield the temple, its inhabitants and the magical relics it housed.

Steve let himself into the three-storey temple, peacefully silent apart from the sound of his own footsteps. Slowly, he made his way down the narrow corridors, walls on both sides lined with never-ending shelves of books, before arriving at the great hall, where a number of magical relics were on display.

Steve recognised some of them: _The Cloak of Levitation_ that enabled Strange to fly, The _Cauldron of the Cosmos_ which allowed the sorcerer to ponder the mysteries of the universe, _The Wand of Watoomb_ , which allowed Strange to create magical blasts and shields. There were axes and swords and daggers, jewellery and clothing, cards and books. 

It was wonderful and fantastic and Steve had never felt more out of place - an ordinary mortal in the midst of all that magic. It was no wonder Tony never came home. The temple was exactly the sort of place that would hold his attention for hours on end.

Pausing in front of a side table, Steve noticed the typical tools for alchemy: a crucible, a mortar and pestle, a retort for the distillation of liquids. A number of canisters sat on the shelves, containing common ingredients for the making potions, but one of the bottles stood out to him, with its label clearly displayed around its neck - L _acrimasdraca_.

Steve recognised the label from his time with Lord Erskine. For centuries, the Erskines had safeguarded dragontears, believed to be the tears of Rex himself that had rained down on the night of his passing. The Erskines had had the foresight to collect as much as their receptacles could hold, and after sharing it sparingly with trusted mages like the Ancient One, who must have given some to Strange, they kept the rest for themselves, passing it down from one generation to the next. 

It was a precious commodity, one available only to the nobility, and at the highest of costs. Thus, it came as a surprise, that the healer never even hesitated to offer every last drop of his prized inheritance to Steve. The only thing he asked in return was a promise, that Steve stay who he was - _not a perfect warrior, but a good man_. 

What Erskine had seen in that frail kid from Brookland had always mystified him. Would the old mage have lived to regret his choice? The potion changed his body. It changed his life, gave him a way to contribute to a greater cause. But was that what Erskine had intended? It wasn’t as if the king of a small kingdom could do much in the midst of gods and sorcerers and dragons. 

Steve moved to the centre of the great hall, where a statue of Rex stood. The statue marked the nerve centre of dragon ley lines, the veins of magic running through the earth. And ever since Strange had taken up residence in the temple, its comfortable rooms and open training grounds had become a gathering point and sanctuary for magical beings.

Steve’s brows furrowed at the sight of Tony’s medallion, hanging around the neck of the statue. As far as Steve knew, Tony never took it off. Why did he have to? Was someone making him?

Steve had no idea how long he stood behind the statue, quiet and unmoving until a long talon stretched out in front of his eyes, reaching for the medallion. 

Instinctively, Steve closed his fist around it, taking the medallion into his own hands. It was Tony’s and no one else could have it, not even Tyranakthon himself.

“Steve!” the dragon cried in surprise, stepping back in alarm.

“Yes,” Steve said, offering the dragon a small smile. “It’s me. I’m just here with tea,” he explained, holding up the picnic basket.

“Thank goodness! I’m ravishing,” the dragon announced with a loud sigh of relief.

Steve laughed. “Surely, you must mean _ravenous_?”

“Tomato, tomato. Potato, potato. Get over here. Need food. Now.”

Steve eyed the dragon cautiously. “When you say food, what exactly do you mean?” he asked.

“Oh, not you,” the dragon said, his voice ringing with laughter. “Just the usual. I love everything you ma -” the dragon began but stopped, looking adorable and awkward as he smiled charmingly at Steve. “Layered meatcake, bitter bean juice, whatever it is you people eat.”

“Then, I think I have something you might want.” Steve reached into the basket and retrieved a shieldberger, gently placing the morsel into a large paw.

The dragon tossed it into his large mouth, making an almost-obscene sound of pleasure and gulped it down. “Good snack,” he said, eyeing the rest of his basket with hungry eyes.

Steve pulled the breadcloth decisively over the basket and clutched it to his chest. “These are for Tony,” he informed the famished beast.

“Oh - but I’m,” he began and stopped, giving Steve a rueful smile.

“How are you finding it here?” Steve asked, trying to distract the dragon from Tony’s food.

“Love it here,” the dragon sighed. “Everything is so beautiful.”

 _You are so beautiful._ Steve wanted to say, mesmerised by the dragon’s bright eyes. He was. And charming too. Steve took a step back, before he could do something stupid, like touch the dragon, or worse, kiss his nose.

“You all right?” the dragon asked, looking back at him with concern.

“Yeah,” Steve said, recovering his composure. “Sorry. I just - where’s Tony?” he sheepishly asked.

“He’s right here,” the dragon said, gesturing vaguely around them.

Steve frowned, squinting around the dim hall. “I don’t see him,” he said, looking around. 

“I’ll get him,” the dragon said cheerfully as he turned to go. “If you can just pass me the medallion, that would be swell. Tony might need that. I mean he could probably do without, but it might take a while,” he blabbered on incomprehensibly as he held his claw out.

Steve closed his fingers tightly around the medallion. “I think I should hand it to him myself. This is very important to Tony, you know?”

“Yes, yes, it is very important to him” the dragon agreed, flashing a row of the brightest teeth Steve had ever seen. “But giving them to me is akin to handing it to Tony. We’re inseparable, attached. We’re connected, you see?”

Steve frowned. “And how long exactly have you known each other?” he asked, stiffly.

The dragon let out a giggle. “It’s kind of a funny story, but all my life, actually,” the dragon said, and Steve could see that he was telling the truth. 

“Yet, he’s never mentioned you.”

A long pause followed as the dragon hesitated about something. “You know what? This has gone on long enough. I’m just going to tell you,” he finally said as his eyes took on a determined look.

“Tell me what?” Steve’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as his heart started pounding.

The dragon lowered his head and whispered in Steve’s ear. “Steve, it’s just _me_. I should have told you. I’ve had these powers for years, but never managed to change into a dragon until that day on King’s Isle.” 

Steve stayed silent, waiting for some sort of revelation that never came. What was he supposed to do with this information? 

When he looked up, the dragon was gazing at him meaningfully, as though waiting for him to connect the dots. But the dots were like stars in the night sky, with an infinite number of constellations to be mapped.

All he made out was that he and Tony had been there the day of the dragon’s prophesied birth and that the dragon was some sort of shifter, which, according to Bruce, was pretty common these days. The revelation sparked off more questions of his own. “Was it hard? Changing for the first time? How did you even know what to do?”

“It was all very organic.” Dragonwings jerked as if in a shrug. “Everything just happened quite by itself, borne from a desperation to protect my dearest love.” 

Steve felt his heart slow to a stop. _That_ was a revelation. His mind spun with the words of the prophecy: _Spawned from hate, by love reborn._ The dragon was a man, who’d transformed himself that day to protect his greatest love. 

And it was Tony Stark. 

“My dearest love,” Steve echoed, his mouth going dry. “It’s Tony then, isn’t it?” he asked, after a long pause, because there hadn’t been anyone else on King’s Isle that day.

“Yes,” the dragon said slowly, looking almost relieved as he met his gaze. “It _is_ Tony. Tony and me - we’re two sides of the same coin.” 

“You’re in love with Tony Stark,” he strained to speak, before sinking into a bottomless pit of despair. 

The dragon let out a snort. “It’s an odd thing to say, but yes, you’re not wrong,” he said.

“You’re inseparable. Attached. Connected,” he added, no longer recognising the sound of his own voice.

“Yes,” the dragon said, who went on to speak of special powers and medallions and spells and treasure. 

Steve barely heard a word above the blood roaring in his ears. He stumbled backward, feeling the desperate need to escape. “I have to go,” he said and thrusted the basket at the dragon. 

Abruptly, he turned, placing one foot in front of the next as his stumbling legs carried him toward the exit. His hip bumped the side of the alchemy table and a harsh laugh escaped. Through his blurry vision, he could make out the label on the canister - _Larcrimadraca._

Whatever made him think he was worthy of Tony’s love? The magic tears that flowed through his body? Tony was the chosen one. He was destined for greatness. And Steve? Everything special about him came out of a bottle.

Steve ignored the dragon’s calls, breaking into a run, going down a different set of corridors, toward the exit. And then he was flying, falling, landing all at once, crumpling into a heap beside a pile of clothes. It was just like the torn clothing he’d found outside the cave, where Tony had been unconscious and unclothed.

Hot tears fell on the stone floors as Steve buried his head in his arms. His cheeks burned with shame, recalling all the times he’d foisted himself on his reluctant husband, who was only pretending to return his affections, even though he already had someone else.

Of course, he did.

And how was Steve ever going to hold a candle to Tyranaksthon, with his gleaming scales and majestic horns, his gifts of magic and fire and flight?

“Steve?” the dragon asked, appearing by his side, eyes growing wide at the sight of his scraped knees. “You’re hurt.”

Steve slapped the wing away. “I’m fine,” he snapped.

The dragon’s eyes filled with pain, which was a hysterical thought, because _he_ wasn’t the one that was being rejected or replaced. It was Steve. “Steve…” he said, his voice taking on a pleading tone as he reached forward in an attempt to brush the tear from the corner of his eye.

“Don’t touch me!” Steve warned, as the dragon loomed close.

“Steve, you can trust me. You don’t have to be afraid. I’m still me,” the dragon said, holding out a claw to him. “I won’t hurt you. I’d never hurt you.”

Steve let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, trust _me_. It’s too damn late for that.” 

Scrambling to his feet, he ran for the door.

***

The ceiling glowed with blue light from the heart-shaped medallion in its filigree frame, the intricate metalwork going around the perimeter, continuing on its back.

Turning it over, Steve found a carving of an ouroboros, a serpent swallowing its own tail - a symbol of life, death and rebirth. Numb fingers traced the carving of the sea serpent in endless circles as his mind continued to whirl with the words he’d heard.

_Inseparable, attached, connected, two sides of the same coin._

The sun had long set, leaving Steve hugging his knees, shivering in spring’s chill. A fire was kindled but its dancing flames did nothing to cheer or warm him up. Completely numb, he couldn’t move. He could only exist in all this pain, enduring the frost that had taken hold of his heart and turned the blood in his veins to ice.

The medallion wasn’t a family heirloom, but a token of love. It was beautiful and magical and everything that the dragon was and Steve wasn’t. It made his head and heart hurt, but it belonged to Tony, so Steve couldn’t bear to put it down, even taking it with him when he fled the temple.

Steve picked up the wooden box and opened it. It was dull and ordinary and its contents were hardly anything to shout about. It didn’t matter that Steve had worked long and hard at it. Compared to the wonder of the medallion, it was a gift that would always come up short.

He was fine. He’d be fine. Steve was no stranger to rejection and he’d survived it countless times, only to find a new sense of purpose. The funniest thing was that for the longest time, he’d thought that Tony Stark was his destiny. 

Clearly, he was wrong. 

The dragon loved Tony and Tony loved him too. The dragon was brave and kind and charming, just like Tony was. The dragon would make Tony happy, and Steve wouldn’t get in their way. He couldn’t. 

_They were inseparable, attached, connected, two sides of the same coin._

Once upon a time, Steve had been happy. Life had been full of warmth, joy and hope, all of which had vaporised into thin air when the dragon had revealed his secret. Steve squeezed his eyes shut, willing his body to stop thinking, to stop feeling, to just stop.

_He was fine. He would be fine. He was fine. He would be fine._

“That bad, huh?” a soft voice pierced the silence.

Steve found Tony beside him, looking back at him with wide eyes that shone gold in the firelight, a stark contrast to his pale face. Steve observed his mussed-up hair and crumpled clothing, unable to tell for how long Tony had sat there just watching him.

Tony reached for his arm and Steve flinched, pulling away. “Steve,” he said, his eyes filling with hurt. “I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you. But one thing just led to the next.”

“I really wish you hadn’t kept me in the dark,” Steve said. “But then again, I guess I should have known. You and the dragon. Tyranaksthon and you. How could I have been so blind?”

“I can explain.”

“Yeah. I’m not ready for that.”

“No, Steve. I have to tell you everything. I’ll start from the beginning.”

“No, please, don’t. It’s really not necessary,” Steve assured him.

Tony paused, sitting back on his heels. “Would it have made a difference?” he asked, “if I had told you?”

“I don’t know,” Steve admitted, getting to his feet. He shuffled to the window, gazing outside at the beautiful stars in the night sky.

It was there that Steve found his answer.

_No, it made no difference._

The whole time they had been together, Steve had been guided by a singular thought - to be the very best for Tony, to make him the happiest person on Earth, but now he knew - that even his best would never be enough.

Tony was the biggest and brightest star in the universe. Steve had chased his light, blindly, but Steve was only a cloud of dust and hot air, in the way of Tony’s brilliance. Only someone like the dragon would be his match, and the two would burn brightly, circling each other in a never-ending dance of love and light.

This was as far as Steve could possibly go, but Tony’s journey was just beginning. Fate had brought them close, and their brief time together had brought him the brightest joy.

It was here that their paths would diverge.

“We had a good run,” Steve slowly said. “We worked well together. And I think we got along. I will miss you when you leave.”

“When I leave,” Tony repeated in a flat voice.

Steve blinked away the tears welling behind his smarting eyes. “Yes,” he said around the lump in his burning throat. “Because you’re not going to give him up.”

Shock flashed in those alluring pools of gold, dazzling and shiny as Tony spoke. “Give him up?” he said in a broken voice. “I can’t.” Tony opened his mouth and closed it again. “Steve… I…”

Steve cut him off. “This is for you,” he said, pushing the wooden box into Tony’s hand. “It’s not much, but I’ve worked on it a long time. I don’t even know why I’m giving it to you, especially now. I can only hope it makes you happy, just as you’ve made me, even if only for a while.”

Steve almost laughed at the irony of the gift. Here he was, thinking he had finally found a way to combat the forces of nature, in creating a top that would never stop spinning. But even lodestones, magical as they were, couldn’t keep a top spinning, if it was already staggering on its last turnings.

Tony barely even glanced at it. He shook his head, holding on to Steve’s hand. “I don’t want to go.”

“But you have to,” Steve said, looking sadly back at him. 

Tony swallowed and stubbornly clenched his jaw, all the while blinking back tears. “I’m sorry,” he said in a broken voice.

The sight of tears running down Tony’s sweet face broke his heart. He didn’t want Tony to cry, especially not because of something he said or did. “Don’t be. There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Steve said, trying to console his husband of six months. “This is not really the end. You know that, right? We’re still going to be friends. If you - if either of you should need me, I’ll be there.”

“I don’t want to be friends!” Tony choked out, sobbing now as his shoulders began to shake, like he was about to fall.

Steve gripped Tony’s shoulders, holding him together as Tony melted into the touch. Tony buried his face in Steve’s shoulder and hot tears fell from his eyes, soaking Steve’s tunic. Steve might have pulled him in closer than was strictly necessary, selfishly wishing to keep him in his arms for as long as he could.

Time slipped away as he held Tony’s body close to him, breathing in the scent of his hair and his skin, feeling his warmth seeping through their clothing. “It’s okay, Tony. It’s going to be okay,” he lied as tears poured out of his own eyes and down his face. His eyes smarted and his throat burned. The air was heating up, making it almost impossible to breathe.

Steve’s eyes flickered and opened wide, horrified at the smoke billowing black across the hall. It thickened, filling his lungs. The fire in the hearth towered over them as flames licked at the oak walls, burning them to their foundations. The paintings and books he’d kept on the mantelpiece were alight, slowly burning down to cinders and ash.

And Tony was still sobbing into his shoulder, oblivious to the inferno rising around them. He was burning, his skin was red and hot all over and Steve almost imagined a trickle of smoke escaping from his nose and mouth. Steve pulled away, placing the back of his hand against Tony’s burning cheek.

“Tony,” he whispered, gently shaking the distressed prince to get his attention. “Fire!”

Tony gasped and pulled away, smoke escaping from his nose and mouth as he stared at the spreading flames. “I’m sorry. I have to go,” he whispered urgently, panic blazing in his eyes.

“Yes,” Steve said, Tony’s safety at the forefront of his mind. “You should.”

Tony had almost made it to the door before turning back. “My medallion,” he gasped, looking imploringly around the house. “I need it.”

The room had filled up completely with smoke and visibility was zero. Steve had to fumble for the medallion, straining his eyes for its signature blue glow.

_There it was._

He placed it on Tony’s palm, his fingers burning as he tried to close Tony’s fingers around the medallion. When he looked at his hand, it was scorched, adding to Tony’s distress.

“I’m sorry! It’s an accident!” he gasped. “Steve!” he cried, looking stricken, as he reached for him and dropped his arms once more to the side. 

“I’m fine,” Steve assured him, secretly wishing he would catch fire and burn with the house that held all these painful memories for him. Maybe it was only then that he’d finally be bright enough for his beautiful star.

He took a long, last look at Tony’s mussed-up hair, his red eyes and wet cheeks, committing his image to his memory. For a few moments, they gazed at each other through their tears, neither knowing if and when they’d meet again. At the sound of a small explosion, Tony fled, leaving behind the home they’d built and shared together, now going up in flames.

Steve stared after Tony’s retreating figure, his gaze lingering on his silhouette until it vanished, leaving Steve to deal with the charred remains of what had once been their home, to suffocate and choke on the words he never got to say.

Just as quickly as it had started, the fire began to subside, the only traces of the raging inferno were embers slowly dying in the grate. 

It led Steve to wonder if it had all been some sort of bad dream. There was no fire, no medallion, no Tony.

The walls were intact, and the flooring too. But their mementos, books, paintings, having failed to express just how much Tony meant to him, lay uselessly in heaps of ash.

The wooden gift box peeked out from underneath a rug. Of course, Tony had chosen the medallion over it. _It was fine. It was better like this._ Now, Steve could bury his own secret deep in his heart and take it to the grave. 

Steve opened the box and retrieved the wooden top, carefully positioning it above the cover of the box. When he gave it a little spin, it twirled in a joyful dance. Steve watched it spin on and on and on. 

He didn’t know how long he sat in the doorway, watching the perpetual top spin in time with his own thoughts. When he finally looked up, the stars were already fading against the dawning light. With a heavy heart, Steve shut the door and closed the windows. 

The curtain came down.

***

**A Summary of Known Dragon Artefacts**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just thought this would be a good place to mention that this story has a 100% happy ending. It will just take our boys a little while to get there. Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know if you have any questions, especially about the universe. There is a high chance I've thought about it, but just didn't manage to include it. =D


	6. I love him.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long day that starts with a quest and ends with a confession. Oh, and there's a battle in there, somewhere. =p 
> 
> Thank you to the wonderful Serinah for beta-reading this and all her suggestions! Thank you to AvengersNewB for her advice on summaries!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! This is the next chapter! Sorry it took so long!
> 
> The battle scene is based on Avengers: Infinity War with some Return of the King from the LOTR Trilogy. 
> 
> I hope you like it!

Tony craned his neck and let his body hang down, so the tip of his tail pointed to the ground. A flap of his wings sent him soaring through the clouds and his body spiralled gracefully behind.

Clumsy first flights had become a memory of the distant past. Since then, Tony had grown more comfortable in his new body and more confident with his powers. Flying was the one thing that brought him joy, so he kept soaring toward the heavens – higher, farther, faster, till his chest felt tight and his toes tingled from the cold.

Wings spread out by his sides, Tony leaned his head back and willed his muscles to relax, slowing falling backward into a dive. As he plunged, he kept a lookout for the canopy of the Wanderer’s Woods, zooming in on a clearing where he would land.

The hard landing sent a flock of starlings flapping their wings, their panicked shrieks heralding his arrival. “Sorry,” Tony whispered, whistling sweetly in an effort to smooth their ruffled feathers.

Tony was no stranger to the woods and the life that dwelled within. Some of his fondest memories included riding their rafts down the rapids near the Rauros Falls, harmonising his whistles with the songs of the birds, all the while hiding in the branches of tall oaks. In the evenings, while sipping on hot chocolate around the bonfire, his parents would tell him stories – the legends of heroes and their incredible feats.

The undergrowth was dense, but there were wide enough spaces between the trees for easy passage. With his scales providing superior protection against wildlife and the elements, Tony chose to stay in his dragon form.

Shuffling about on his large feet, Tony soon found their little hut, where they'd once kept their fishing equipment and hunting gear. With it as a point of reference, he began to explore the surroundings, keeping his eyes peeled for the will-o-the-wisps, those little balls of glowing blue light that had beckoned him deep into the woods that fateful night. 

His parents believed that the will-o-the-wisps led one to their destiny – be it treasure or doom. Enticed by this, his younger self had chased after the elusive orbs that night all those years ago, and just as the legend promised, the mystical lights had led Tony to his treasure, right in front of the heartewoode tree. 

It had been more of a sapling back then, like the one Steve grew in Kingsgarden, the single seed on the ground the only sign of its first bloom, but now, it towered proudly above the others, its long branches reaching for the heavens as glossy green leaves dangled from them like emeralds in the light.

Circling the trunk, all that Tony could find were long, deep scratches around its bark left behind by a long line of disappointed gem hunters. Tony sighed, contributing to the air of dismay.

While he wasn’t under any illusions about finding the treasure that day, Tony couldn’t help but feel saddened about leaving empty-handed, with no coordinates, no clues, no strategies, no options. Zero. Zip. Nada.

A tiny memento, even a small seed, would have offered some sort of consolation. If he planted it on his mountain and nurtured it dutifully, it might one day reveal the secrets he was after, but with how rarely the heartewoode bloomed, even that had been wishful thinking on his part.

Minding his tail, Tony sank down onto the soft grass and rested his back against the solid trunk of the tree. His day had got off to an early start, and Tony had been flying without much of a break, so the effects of fatigue were beginning to set in.

Heavy eyelids fluttered to a close as the disjointed images of an old memory came to him. There was the brilliant glow of the heartstone, and no less bright, the frightened blue eyes, hot tears falling from them and soaking through his thick clothes, the small, pale hand gripping his wrist and the soft, sweet voice telling him not to close his eyes, pleading with him to watch a conical seed spin and fall, over and over, until Tony fell into a deep slumber.

When Tony opened his eyes again, the sun had just about reached its highest point and its bright rays filtered through the leaves to warm his resting body. Getting to his feet, Tony took shook the freshly-fallen leaves off his body. Rejuvenated by his time in the forest, he prepared to depart. 

The clouds swirled together in a misty greeting, welcoming Tony back to their embrace. Supported by the westerly winds, he glided ahead and was soon flying over the Dracarex Hylls, which hissed furiously, spewing ash and smoke all over the Midlands.

Through the billowing smoke, Tony could make out the stone arches of Rockehenge and the leafy tops of the Conewood Forest just beyond, stirring up memories that caused his heart to clench painfully in his chest.

It had been months since he’d left Shieldberg, but not a moment passed without Tony missing the citadel, his new friends, and – 

He squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself to stop thinking. Dragons were solitary creatures. They didn’t need anyone. Steve was happy without him and –

He would get by on his own.

It was almost a relief to see Ferrumarx amidst the snow-capped mountains, its steely spoke barely visible above low wisps of cloud. Up there, in his fortress and sanctuary, was where time stood still, for the mountain cared neither for the hours nor the minutes that passed it by.

For all the times he’d considered his powers to be a curse, they had at least allowed him to be his own forge. The mountains were at his disposal and long talons enabled him to rip up the earth to mine iron deposits, which he smelted and shaped with careful puffs of his breath into whatever his heart desired.

It had begun as a hobby, with Tony forging small pieces of furniture to offer himself some comfort, but one thing led to another and before he knew it, Tony had built himself an iron fortress atop the highest mountain in the range, providing him with the most magnificent of views.

The mountain herself was beautiful. Evergreens had begun to trade their white coats for green robes. Blankets of frost had melted into streams, their watery percussion the perfect accompaniment to the songs of courting birds.

The only thing that Ferrumarx lacked was his treasure, which he had to leave behind that disastrous night. And while he’d visited Shieldberg a couple of times under the cover of darkness, he was took care to stay out of sight, content just to see and not touch.

With its sharp slopes of screes, the mountain was largely inaccessible, so visitors were few and infrequent. Apart from the occasional visit from Rhodey and Peter, Strange had also dropped in a couple of times – to keep him informed about various developments, which were by and large, ominous and worrying.

Bolstered by a series of successful invasions, Thanos had turned his attention back to Valoria, still convinced that the heartstone was hidden on their lands. The Black Order, comprising of the emperor’s most ferocious dragon warriors, had been raiding their lands with an alarming frequency. Recent weeks had also seen the emperor consolidating his forces, impressing upon them that a full-scale attack was imminent.

The Howling Commandos remained at their posts, patrolling the eastern coast vigilantly as they watched for enemy movement. With Sam’s birds flying over the Jewelled Sea multiple times a day, Rhodey and Peter had elected to monitor the southern coast, which left Tony with the west.

Ferrumarx, with its impressive view of the coast and the seas beyond it, was the perfect place for Tony to watch for signs of invading troops.

And it looked like trouble was already on its way.

Tony felt the mountains trembling, shaking tender leaves from their branches. Then came the battle cry - terrible and grotesque, which made his heart stop and his blood freeze. Feet rooted to the ground, Tony saw hundreds and thousands of horsemen, covered in furs and riding like the wind. A handful of trolls and stone-giants lumbered behind them, at times appearing to crush the riders beneath their feet.

A second roar roused him to action. While keeping an eye on the trio of black dragons hovering above the riders, Tony made haste to light the beacons around the fortress. The winds would blow the smoke in the direction of Shieldberg and warn them of their enemy’s intentions.

It would be a gleaming moment in destiny, a brilliant clash of sword against shield, spear against armour. The board was set and the pieces were moving – toward the great battle of their time.

***

When Tony arrived at the Gladioli Fields, Steve and his knights were huddled in deep discussion under the shade of some trees.

Tony was going for a quiet entrance, but eagle-eyed warriors had spotted him a mile away, so by the time he was flying overhead, they were waving their swords and chanting his name: Schelle-head! Schelle-head! Schelle-head!

Tony roared loudly in a lively rejoinder and sent a jet of fire toward the sky, causing the spectators to erupt in boisterous cheers.

Through it all, Steve kept his head down and arms folded, waiting patiently for his commanders to return to the discussion. The chilly reception cooled the fire within, causing Tony’s heart to freeze and crack painfully in his chest. It had been months since that disastrous conversation and the fall out, but clearly, Steve wasn't ready to let it go.

Tony kept flying, surveying the long slopes and terraces that made up the landscape, in search of a good place to land. He settled on the flatlands near a small creek, where the grounds looked rich and well-watered. Stalks of gladioli peeked out from shorter blades of grass, peppering the meadows with pinks, yellows and blues, made brighter in the buoyant sun.

The enemy was still on the way and the collective sounds of thumping hooves and clinking armour were getting louder by the minute. While some armies would have marched on to meet the enemy, the Valorians had decided to wait where they were.

Nourished by sweat and blood of fallen warriors, the rich grounds of the Gladioli Fields had always been a strategic Valorian battleground. Just ten miles from Shieldberg, the injured could be conveyed fairly swiftly on horseback. In defeat, their flag would be lowered from the towering mast on top of the steep terraced slopes, giving the city’s inhabitants precious time to escape through the catacombs.

Besides, waiting at the fields allowed both warrior and horse to conserve their energy, to have a drink and a snack, a last word with a friend, thus placing themselves in a stronger position to outlast their foes. 

Tony had barely taken a sip of cool water before long, limber arms were around his neck and as Peter contorted the rest of his body to fit around his girth, it tickled, causing Tony to laugh. “This feels nice,” Peter purred happily, when Tony returned the hug. 

“Good to see you, Rhodey,” Tony said, his voice all strangled from Peter’s firm embrace.

Rhodey gave him a curt nod. “Well, you look like crap. Must’ve been a rough couple of months,” he said, looking critically at Tony’s dull scales and shrunken body. 

Tony laughed. “Yeah. It’s not the palace,” he admitted. 

“I think you look great,” Peter said, snuggling into his chest. “I missed you.” 

After Peter finally released him, whining and pouting the whole time, Rhodey brought Tony up to speed on recent developments, careful to avoid any mention of Tony’s subject of interest, all the way on the other side.

When Steve turned to look in their direction, Tony gulped, forcing his heart back down his throat. He dropped to his knees and crouched down beside Peter, contorting his body to make it as small as possible, before settling down behind a boulder.

“On a scale of Mushu to the Midgard Serpent, how mad is he?” Tony asked.

“I don’t know,” Peter said, as he turned around to peek at Steve from over the rocks. “I’m not sure he ever was.”

Rhodey huffed. “Just say the word, Tony. And I’ll be over, kicking his ass.”

“What for? Not wanting a dragon for a spouse? I mean, to be fair, it’s not for everyone.”

“What exactly did he say?”

Tony shook his head, refusing to revisit that painful conversation. “What does it matter? He asked me to leave. That was clear enough.”

Rhodey frowned. “If he wanted you to leave, why has he been moping around this whole time?”

Tony’s heart skipped a beat and came to life. “He’s been moping?”

“Yes.”

“Like Henry Horrendous Haddock III at the end of _Legends of Berk_ ,” Peter whispered, from behind the back of his hand.

Tony frowned. “Did he say anything?”

Rhodey shook his head. “Here’s the thing. He’s said nothing, nothing at all. No one, not even his inner circle knows why you left. To them, Tony is Tony and you are you. It’s a grand mystery why the prince has fled with you to the mountains.” 

“You have to talk to him,” Peter said.

“Nah. I wouldn’t know what to say.”

“Then, think about it,” Peter said, putting his forelimbs around Tony’s head and turning it so he could see Steve walking in their direction. 

Clad in his armour, Steve dragged his feet across the meadow in a slow, unhurried manner, looking like he was trying to make it across in the longest possible time. Tony's heart began fluttering lightly in his chest, confirming that all the time spent in exile had done nothing to smother the torch he'd carried for the man walking in his direction.

Despite his stony expression, Steve looked soft and cuddly with his grown-out hair and a jaw of gold fuzz that accentuated the hollows in his cheeks. Under his red-rimmed eyes, Tony could make out puffy bags and a couple of new lines he didn’t think had been there before. 

“Your majesty,” he said cordially, trying his best not to panic when he discovered himself alone in his hour of need, his traitorous friends having deserted him in a hurry.

“Schellehead,” Steve said, and stopped to gaze at an imaginary spot behind Tony’s shoulder. “We should go over the strategy,” he added, getting right down to business.

“All right,” Tony agreed, somewhat chilled by the icy greeting but nonetheless relieved to have something to talk about, as Steve sat down beside him, facing the creek.

Time was on their side and the enemy wasn’t due to arrive for some time, but Steve kept the briefing short and to the point, as if eager to get it out of the way.

Strange was already on the battlefield practising how to create a large energy shield around their army to form a barrier. It would be from the inside of this bubble that they would observe their enemy up close, giving them the chance to adapt their strategies if necessary.

The flyers on their team would watch the Black Order closely, and take them on should they manage to break past Strange’s shield. Clint was to team up with the Hulk and take down the bigger combatants, like the trolls and stone-giants.

If the barrier came down for any reason, they would fall back on their regular formation. The cavalry would lead the charge, flanked by archers on both sides, and the melee troops would be right behind, ready to finish off the horsemen who’d fallen from their steeds.

It was straightforward plan and Tony had no questions, so he was surprised when Steve didn’t leave when he was done. Instead, the king hung around, opening and closing his mouth, hemming and hawing, as if he had something to ask. 

He didn’t get to.

“Steve,” Nat said, appearing from the copse of trees behind them. “Sam’s returned. The Anguisians have crossed the River Aros and are making good on time. They’ll be at the Freedom Mounds before we know it.”

Steve nodded and got to his feet. “We should go,” he said.

“We’re about to meet the commanders,” Nat explained, addressing Tony. “Will you come?”

Tony looked hesitantly at Steve. “I don’t know. Should I?” he asked. 

Steve’s eyes were fixed on the enemy slowly appearing above the horizon. “If you want.”

Nat stayed close to Tony as they made their way to the meeting point, her quick steps keeping up with his long stride. “Don’t mind him,” she said. “It’s been a rough couple of months without Tony. When this is all over, we need to sit them down and make them talk.”

Three dragons with glossy black scales landed at the bottom of the mounds, transforming into their human forms before making their way up. Tony matched them easily to Strange’s descriptions: Proxima Midnight with her trademark blue skin, Corvus Glaive with his gold horns and Cull Obsidian with his long, sharp fangs. 

“Where are the rest?” Nat asked drily, unfazed by the Black order and the massive army behind them.

“We’ve brought enough,” Midnight informed her with a withering smile. “Thanos will have that stone.”

“You’re in Valoria,” Steve said. “Thanos will have nothing but dust and blood.”

Midnight snorted. “We have blood to spare. For each of you that we slaughter, you must do away with a hundred of us. We can sustain losses for weeks, months. But when you run out of men, and you will, we will take your precious city and lay waste to it. Your last chance to avoid - catastrophe - if you just hand us the stone.”

Steve gazed at her coldly. “No,” he said.

Midnight smirked. “This will be the end of Valoria,” she promised.

“Then, it will be the noblest ending in history.”

Midnight bared her teeth and raised her spear, letting out a piercing shriek. Answering her cry, her horde of warriors beat their swords against their shields, clamouring in one voice - for death. 

Bucky was lowering the chaffron over his steed's head when they returned. Placing a soft kiss on Blaze's nose, he got up to greet them. 

“Did they surrender?” Bucky asked, as Nat leaned in to kiss his stubbled cheek. 

Steve pulled his mouth in a grim line. “Not exactly,” he mentioned as he walked by, following Nat to the creek where their horses were drinking.

“Hello,” Bucky called out as Tony approached. “I’m Bucky,” he said. 

Tony stopped in his tracks to return the greeting. “How are you doing, Bucky?” he asked, his voice coming out in a soft growl. 

“Not bad, for the end of the world,” Bucky answered, good cheer ringing in his voice. “And what about Tony?” he asked, dropping his voice to a whisper. “I'm asking for a friend.”

“Please tell me he’s at the cliffs,” Clint added when he joined them. “With Rhodes? And I hope they had the good sense not to take Peter with them.”

The Hulk was seated on the grass, scowling in Tony’s direction “Want Tony. Where Tony? Where?” he asked, as his face scrunched up, as if in pain.

“Tony is right where he needs to be,” Tony said around the lump in his throat. Tears pricked at his eyes, forcing him to turn away abruptly. This was not the time to have a breakdown.

He had to keep it together. With a curt nod and a sharp turn of his head, he made his way toward Rhodey and Peter, all the while feeling their curious gazes on him.

***

Tony turned his eyes to the blue sky and watched the sun shine down on them from behind fine wisps of cloud. It was the perfect day for a picnic, to lay on the grass, feast on the sight of wildflowers and gulp down the fresh springtime air.

But the arrival of the enemy, clamouring loudly from across the river, had turned the meadow into a battlefield, where lambs rose into lions, ready to defend their territory to the bitter end, their sacrifices a worthy exchange for the freedom of their loved ones back home.

A horn sounded in the distance and the ground began to shake. Blades of grass trembled under the hooves of enemy horses – and it was all the warning they needed.

“What the hell?” Bucky muttered as he took in the scale of the attack, his mouth falling open at the troops charging in their direction.

“Looks like we pissed her off,” Nat said, as the gawked at Midnight, who had lowered her spear, transforming herself into a dragon of a deep, beautiful blue.

She was closely followed by Corvus Glaive, now identifiable with his long gold horns, and Cull Obsidian, with his massive clubbed tail.

The horsemen charged with great speed, with their spears held high above their heads. One of the faster ones broke through the ranks, coming at them so quickly that Tony barely had time to blink.

Strange landed in front of them and held his hands in front of him. “Those attacking on a whim, will face the Shield of Seraphim,” the sorcerer said, erecting a red filigree shield, which sent the enemy rider and horse flying backward into the charging troops.

Steve’s warriors kept their positions, watching curiously as the dauntless enemy charged at the shield which had now widened across the whole field, forcing those before them through the barrier, thereby tearing them into half.

“They’re killing themselves,” Clint observed.

Nat shuddered. “He’s crazier than I thought.”

“Who? Why? What are they?” Clint asked, referring to the suicidal troops.

“Berserkers,” Tony explained, recognising them from the bearskins on their backs. “They’re a powerful army. Asgardian warriors who fought under the command of Odin himself during the great wars of conquest. They battled like raging beasts and destroyed everything in their path.”

Clint raised his brow. “That sounds badass - like us,” he said.

“Yes,” Tony agreed. “The only difference is - they’re supposed to be dead.”

“Thanos resurrected them,” Clint muttered, with disgusted realisation, as the rest of the knights looked uneasily at one another.

“He’s led them out of the underworld to battle his wars,” Tony concluded. “They’re not fighting of their own volition. You can tell by the colour of their pupils. They’re white.”

“What?” Tony asked when he realised everyone was staring at him. 

“Nothing,” Sam said. “It’s just - you remind us - of someone.” 

Steve cleared his throat loudly. “Lord Strange, is there anything you can do about this?” he asked.

“This is dark Asgardian magic,” Strange grunted, straining with the effort of holding the barrier. “I’m afraid it’s beyond me.” 

The berserkers charged at them in waves, their large numbers occasionally weakening the shield long enough for a stray warrior to slip through.

Clint shot them down fairly easily, but with each attempt involving more warriors charging at greater speeds, it wasn’t certain how long they could keep it up. “What do we do?” Clint asked, glancing at Steve. 

“They’re men,” Steve said. “All men must die. If they are the valiant warriors we believe them to be, they will be honoured with the greatest of gifts.”

Nat nodded grimly. “Death,” she said, just in case it wasn’t clear what Steve meant.

“This could take days,” Rhodey warned, returning from an aerial survey of their numbers.

“I can’t hold them off that long,” Strange cautioned.

Steve nodded as he urged Star forward, taking his position in front of the troops. “Bucky, take your men down the left flank.”

“Flank ready, my king.”

“Nat, follow the king’s banner down the centre. Clint, take your company right after we pass the creek. Sam, you’ve got to draw away the flyers,” Steve said, referring to the menacing dragons screeching above the army, their loud cries piercing their ears.

The king paused as he turned to Tony, as if hesitant to command him.

“We’ll be right behind you,” Tony offered.

Steve nodded, but the expression on his face remained unreadable. “The world stands on the brink of destruction, the tipping point between order and chaos. Your help will push us over the edge to triumph over our foes.”

Tony nodded. “And I will follow you to the very end,” he solemnly said.

Steve sighed. “You know, I was afraid you were going to say that,” he said, with his cheeks colouring. “Be careful out there,” he mumbled, before turning to face the rest of his troops.

Steve’s sword glinted as he raised it to the sunlight. Riding in front of his warriors, the king ran his sword against their spears in salutation, rallying their morale with loud clinks that resounded through the fields. 

With Steve’s attention on his men, Tony could finally gaze openly at him, without the fear of being caught. It had the makings of legend – the sickly son of a farmhand, rejected from the armed forces, having proven himself in word and deed, rising through the ranks to become one of the most powerful men in the seven realms.

When he had returned to the centre of his troops, Star came to a stop. Looking at the troops assembled before him, Steve raised his voice. “Arise, my brothers! Arise, my sisters! For years, we and our allies have been living in the shadow of this growing beast. The time has come for us to rise against the monster and force it back from whence it came.”

Steve paused for a moment to catch his breath. “Sword shall be broken, shield shall be splintered. It will be the hardest fight of our lives. For some, our very last. Freedom comes at the price of blood, one I am willing to pay – and I know I can’t be the only one.”

There was a longer pause, this time to allow the weight of Steve’s words to sink in, before Steve began moving on Star, raising his sword and pointing it to the enemy. “They hurt you? Hurt them back. Get killed? Walk it off. You ready? Then, into hell’s mouth we ride - to a glorious death!”

“Death!” the warriors echoed, beating their spears against their shields.

“Death!” they roared, their faces red with determination.

“Death!” they shouted in one voice, as they charged after Steve, gathering speed like a tidal wave sweeping toward the enemy.

The din of arms rose high, with the rousing shouts of warriors and the neighing of horses surging around them. Horns were blown and trumpets brayed, giving the warriors the courage to charge bravely past the fading Shield of Seraphim.

Even though the Black Order hung back, waiting in the wings, Tony joined the fray, keeping a lookout for the enemy dragons and a watchful eye over Steve, who was the first to engage, knocking one of the berserkers off his horse with a wave of his shield.

Bucky caught up soon enough, swinging his sword at the riders as his horse drew close. “Three, four, five,” he grunted, counting the berserkers that fell by his sword.

Steve raised his brows at Bucky in a challenge. “Eleven, twelve, thirteen…”

“Troll!” Tony shouted, his warning allowing Steve to narrowly avoid getting hammered on the head with a spiked club.

While Steve took care of _fourteen, fifteen and sixteen_ , Bucky scaled the beast, climbing onto his shoulders, swinging his sword at the left, right and top of his head. Furious, the troll grabbed Bucky’s sword by the blade and flung it to the ground.

Nat rode up beside him and tossed him her spear, which Bucky caught and used to pierce the beast between his shoulder blades. Before the wretched beast hit the ground, Bucky leapt from the shoulders of the groaning troll and back onto his horse, flashing Steve a cocky grin as he rode by. 

“That - is - still - one!” Steve huffed, stressing his words with stabs to the chests of _seventeen, eighteen, nineteen and twenty_. 

“Looks like I’ve disarmed you again,” Bucky said to Nat as she pulled up beside him. 

She held up Bucky’s sword in her right hand, which caused her lover to break into a smile. “Always picking up after you boys,” she sighed. 

“Thank you, milady,” Bucky said as he returned her spear, leaning back when he saw his sword flying at his face, allowing the blade to whiz over his head and bury itself in the flesh of the berserker sneaking up behind him.

“Marry me,” he shouted after Nat who was already riding away, spear in hand. 

“Stay alive first,” she called out. 

“She said yes!” Bucky shouted and another troll knocked him off his horse. 

Sam rolled his eyes. Swooping down on Redwing, he drew his bow, releasing a number of arrows on the troll to drive him away. “You couldn’t have done that later?” he hissed from above the smitten knight. 

“Love you too!” Bucky yelled back, blowing a kiss at Sam from the ground, thus proving that those in love could feel no pain. 

Tony smiled in spite of the pang in his heart, as he remembered the giddy feeling of falling in love. There was a time he’d been just as happy as Bucky was. He’d felt invincible and powerful, with the love of his life by his side. Indulgently, he watched Bucky’s expressions of happiness, living vicariously through him, as the lovesick knight went about retrieving his sword. Tony dived down, picking up the knight, whom he returned to his anxious steed.

“You’re invited to the wedding, Schellehead!” Bucky shouted at Tony as he took off.

“All right, back up,” Rhodey said, when Tony flew under his glimmering silver wings. You’re going to get your wings frozen,” Rhodey warned. He released a barrage of hailstones at the berserkers below him, causing the enemy to rapidly disperse. 

Nearby, the Hulk was struggling to free himself from a berserker pile. “Gyahhhh! Too many!” he complained.

High above the battlefield, Clint let out an elated whoop as he flew in on Peter’s back. He drew his bow and took careful aim, before releasing his arrows at the multitude of berserkers closing in on Bruce. 

The battle raged on the Gladioli Fields as brave warriors put up a strong fight, even though the enemy's large numbers had forced them to break formation. They were surrounded by chaos, trapped in an all-encompassing disaster of epic proportions and all Tony could think about was —

“Steve!” he shouted, blowing a jet of fire at the troll who had raised his big, hairy fist above the king’s head, all prepared to club him. 

Steve gazed upward and offered him a salute, before moving on to his next target, continuing to rack up the hits. He was in the prime of his life - looking fit and determined and most importantly, quite unscathed. 

Tony would have gone on staring forever had it not been for the portal appearing above. Strange fell out of it, landing directly on Tony’s back. 

“Give a guy a heads-up, will you?” Tony grumbled, when he’d recovered from the surprise. 

“I just did,” Strange told him sagely as he created new portals below them, sending unsuspecting berserkers off the battlefield and back to the underworld.

“Well, we can’t all see the future. You know that right?” Tony continued. 

“I do,” the sorcerer agreed. 

“Any idea how this all ends?” he asked, still worried about Steve. 

“I’ve gone ahead to view alternate futures - to see all the possible outcomes of the coming conflict.”

“And?” Tony asked, holding his breath expectantly. “How many did we win?” 

Strange’s long arms seemed to close around his neck a little more tightly. “One,” he quietly said.

A fresh wave of berserkers threatened to overwhelm their forces so Tony breathed down fire, herding the newcomers into a new portal that sent them back to hell. 

Despite their valiant efforts, the berserkers kept coming incessantly, and the Valorians were in danger of being overrun. The undead warriors fought in a trance, immune to fear and pain, unafraid of death, oblivious to the struggles of mere mortals. 

Relentlessly, the army of berserkers pushed them back, forcing the Valorians to the very edge of the field. It was imperative for them not to retreat any farther. Once the enemy found their way past the last line of defence, they would make their way for the city gates. 

Just then, rainbow light beamed from the heavens above, drawing their attention. A hammer flew out of it, wreathed with lightning. It tore through the enemy troops, cutting swathes through their ranks before disappearing back into the tornado that had appeared out of nowhere. 

When the dust settled, it revealed Thor and Loki standing inside a circle of berserker corpses.

“Your saviours are here!” Loki announced. Leaping into the air, he transformed himself into a dark green dragon with golden horns. He executed a graceful flip and circled around to allow Thor to climb onto his back.

Gold dust sprinkled from Loki’s wings as the Asgardians flew over the enemy troops. It had a tranquilising effect on the berserkers, whose movements began to slow down. Some had even begun to lay down their arms. 

When the God of Mischief passed over a particularly dense concentration of enemy troops, Thor leapt off from his brother’s back and slammed his hammer into the ground.

Lightning struck outwards in concentric circles, and the berserkers fell in waves. Their bodies lay on the flowering fields, sword-lilies and blades of grass a tribute to the brave fighters who had once battled their hearts out and earned their heavenly rest.

“Ah-hahaha! Puny baddies! You guys doomed now!” the Hulk called out gleefully to Proxima Midnight, as her undead warriors began to falter, leaving the Anguisians with a small army of trolls and stone-giants to continue the attack. 

The mythical monsters were still advancing when Strange jumped from Tony’s back. With his magic cloak billowing after him, he descended gracefully into the middle of the horde. “By the crimson bands of Cyttorak which kept the monster chained, I conjure strands of primal force to keep the war contained.” 

The spell summoned durable bands, which bound the trolls and stone-giants to one another, making it increasingly challenging for them to move. 

The knights caught on to what Strange was doing and rounded up the remaining stone-giants and trolls, herding them toward the wizard, so he could bind them with his magic. 

Then, the Black Order made their move.

They advanced swiftly, letting out shrill shrieks as they approached. Rhodey and Peter soared toward them, as planned, ready to meet the challenge. Tony was preparing to do the same when he spotted Steve galloping toward him with a worried look on his face.

“Schellehead!” Steve shouted from below him, drawing Tony’s attention to two dragons with unfamiliar silhouettes, one red, the other silvery blue, slinking away in the direction of Shieldberg.

Tony had never seen them before. 

“They’re not ours,” Tony roared, getting a bad feeling about this. 

“The castle! It’s unguarded!” Steve cried. 

It wasn’t something Tony had to consider. Between the mages and the warriors on the field, the battle was as good as won. Besides, who would he follow if not Steve?

If ever one was lost in the middle of a fight, Steve, with his perfectly-aligned moral compass, was the one they all should look to. He was the needle pointing north, a beacon in a fog, the stars in the night. Not a perfect warrior, but a good man – unwaveringly bright in spite of the darkness. 

So, when Steve rode up and drew rein before Tony, he slowed to a stop and lowered his head, allowing Steve to climb onto his back.

***

The silver-blue dragon was fast. He came and went like a hurricane, often turning the wind against them to slow them down. His female companion, while nowhere as swift, had a different set of powers, which she demonstrated by bringing huge boulders crashing down with a purposeful flap of her wings. 

“You all right?” Tony asked, turning his head to check on his rider, after a particularly close shave. 

"Yep," Steve answered as he tightened his grip of his warm arms and strong thighs around Tony’s neck. “Eyes up, stay sharp,” he added, urging Tony to turn his head back around. 

Flying past the scarlet dragon, Tony retaliated with _firebreath_ , an incinerating burst of fire, which scorched the tip of her tail as she tried to flee. 

A blast of _frostbreath_ neutralised his attack, allowing the scarlet dragon to escape. Then, the silver dragon soared over Tony and Steve, raining frost on them from above. 

Once the female had made her escape, the male followed, and both of them vanished from their sight. Tony kept his eyes ahead and his wits about him, ready to fend off an attack at any time, even though they appeared to have ceased.

By the time they landed within the inner walls of Shieldberg, the sun was beginning to set and a cold wind had started to blow. While there was still no sign of the enemy, Tony was certain they were inside the citadel.

“Thank you,” Steve whispered as he dismounted carefully from Tony’s back. The armour must have been uncomfortable, and the helmet was soon removed, with Steve rubbing his aching crown and sore temples. A free hand swept aside the long bangs sticking to his forehead, revealing his face in the light of the setting sun. 

Apart from the light dusting of pink on his cheeks, Steve was as fair as before – a fresh lily, blooming tall and proud, at least on the surface. Only a loved one would know his stiff posture was a result of being stricken by frost, the sweet sap within having long turned to ice.

The king hastily replaced the protective headpiece when he noticed Tony staring, causing the blush on his cheeks to deepen. “Thank you for coming to our aid in our hour of need,” he offered politely. “It’s been an honour to fight alongside an ally – and a friend.”

Tony lowered his head in what he thought was a bow. “What’s our play?” he asked, steeling himself for the confrontation ahead.

They stared at each other. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Tony muttered, trying not to roll his eyes. “Do you even know what’s behind these doors?”

“I have a good idea, yes.”

“And you want to go in? Alone?”

Steve shrugged. “It’s my duty,” he said, “but this is not your fight.” 

“You’re facing off with dragons. How is this not my fight? I can think of a hundred reasons to go in there with you. How many have you got against that?”

“One.”

“And what's that?” he demanded.

“Tony.”

“Yes?” he asked, blinking in confusion.

Steve let out a deep sigh. “If you really want to come in with me, I don't think I can stop you. But there's something we should agree on.”

“Okay,” Tony said, reasonably.

"Back at the fields, did you mean what you said?"

"What did I say?" Tony asked, seeking clarification, because he had said a few things.

The blush was back on Steve's cheeks. "The thing about following me." 

"Oh," Tony started. "Yes, I do mean that." 

"Well, you shouldn't," Steve told him, rather firmly.

Seeing the surprise on Tony's face, he softened. “Look, it’s been a long day and this –,” he said, moving his hand to indicate both of them. “This is hard for me, but here’s the thing and it’s the truth – I’m glad that he chose you.”

Tony blinked. “Who?”

“Tony,” Steve said, looking at him like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Because then, it allows me to walk through those doors and do what I was meant to do. And the one thing that would really help me focus in there is the knowledge that you're going to make it back home - to him." 

“I'm sorry. I'm don't - " Tony puffed, frowning at Steve as he tried to make sense of the words coming out of his mouth, wondering if Steve had indeed been struck by a rock.

Because Steve was doing it again – talking about him like he wasn’t there. He was acting like one of his knights, behaving like he didn’t know, almost as if he truly thought Tony was someone else.

But, how could it be? They’d talked about it before and Tony had explained it: _We’re inseparable, attached, connected – two sides of the same coin._

And Steve had understood. Tony and Tyranaksthon were one and the same. How could they be different if they were always together?

If their positions were reversed and Steve was the one with an alter ego who never left his side, Tony would have assumed there was something between them. He would have been jealous and mad with rage. He would have been heartbroken. He would have wanted to cut ties, never wanting to see either of them again.

_Oh._

_My._

_God._

“Steve,” he whispered, his heart racing in time with the words pouring out of the king’s mouth. He put his arm on Steve’s shoulder to cut him off. “I think there’s been a mistake.” 

Steve frowned. “That’s not exactly the word I would use.” He closed his eyes, his features softening as he exhaled. “Is it wrong to love the light? Is it so bad for moths to love the fire? Why, then, do we reach the stars? It’s not a mistake. It’s inevitable.”

“It’s tragic, is what it is,” Tony murmured, his heart aching all over again, when he thought of all the time they’d lost.

“It is,” Steve agreed. “It’s blinding - the darkness that follows in the wake of such brilliance. Every beat of the heart hurts, each breath aches with longing. But I’d do it again. My only regret is that – I never told him,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut as if in pain.

“Told him what?”

A sad smile sat on the king’s lips. “I love him,” he said, and when he opened his eyes, welling up with sentiment, Tony could see that it was the truth. 

“You – what?”

Steve nodded slowly. “I do,” he said. “Do you know that when he gets excited or upset, he speaks his mother tongue? He puffs up his cheeks when solving a problem and sticks out his tongue as he works.”

The corners of Steve’s mouth twitched with fond amusement. “His nostrils flare when he laughs, and sometimes, he snorts. And - ," Steve broke off to stifle a soft chuckle, "when he stretches his lithe body, he rumbles and growls, like a little dragon.” 

Tony's heart fluttered with the beginnings of hope. “And – would that be a problem for you – if he _were_ a dragon?” Tony asked carefully, watching closely through his eyelashes for Steve’s response. 

“Why would it be?” Steve asked, eyebrows furrowed together into a little knot. “I have no grudge against your kind. I mean, sure, dragons are terrifying, in general. But I could never be afraid of Tony - or you.” With a faraway look in his eyes, Steve continued, “Tony would be a dracafyre, like you, with all of his burning ideals and his passion for life. His wings would be magnificent, yet light and powerful. He wouldn’t stop making weapons. Yeah, he'd just use his powers to make them instead. Tony would know better than anyone else – how there’s no furnace hotter than a dracafyre’s mouth.” 

Tony tried to say something, but his heart was bursting with happiness. _Steve loved him._ He loved him as he was - dragon or not. He really did, judging from the brightness of his blue eyes as he continued pouring his heart out to Tony in earnest. 

“Tony would be a brave and noble dragon. Do you know? He’s the bravest person I’ve ever known. Tony would protect the weak, defend the innocent. He’d be wonderful,” Steve finished, with a wistful smile.

 _The bravest person he'd ever known_. If only Steve knew how afraid he'd been of losing him. It was all his fault. If only he’d been honest right from the start, they wouldn’t have had those misunderstandings. He could have spared them both from this heartbreak.

Steve was shaking his head. “But what am I talking about. Of course, Tony isn’t a dragon. He can’t be.” 

Tony swallowed. “Why not?” he asked. 

“Because, then, he would have told me,” Steve said. 

Guilt weighed heavily on Tony’s chest. Instead of nurturing the love blossoming between them, Tony had allowed the weeds to creep up and choke out the light. And then, he'd uprooted himself, thus Steve to suffer all alone. 

“I had hoped to see him again, you know? Even wished he was with us at the Gladioli Fields, but of course, that’s so selfish. Why would I want him there?” Steve paused to let out a soft sigh. “Could never convince him to stay away from a fight. I don’t know how you did, and that’s why you’re the one for him, Schellehead. Tony was right to choose you.”

“Steve…” Tony began, his chest now bursting with the words he wanted to say. 

He would tell Steve about that night in the Wanderer’s Woods: Thanos, Yinsen, Strange; the long years confined in the castle, having to wear the medallion to prevent his powers from getting out of control, but secretly practising at night; the thrill of lighting candles and starting fires, all the while terrified that someone would find out; about that day in King’ Isle, how he had only managed to change himself into a dragon because of the singular desire to keep Steve safe.

He had to tell Steve everything, from the beginning, and spare no detail, if that was what it took to have another shot at starting over with the one he couldn’t live without. He put a hand on Steve's shoulder, preparing to start, but before the first word could spill out of his mouth, the heavy oak doors that opened to the throne room, creaked and moved apart.

They exchanged a long look.

“Steve – ,” he said.

But Steve had already turned away and was marching inside. 

With a heavy sigh, Tony followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay in posting this. Real life happened and I had to rewrite this chapter a couple of times.  
> Please let me know what you think. Anyone wants to guess who the red and silvery blue dragons are?
> 
> Happy New Year! I hope everyone has a great year ahead of them, blessed with good health and happiness!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this! :D


	7. It's you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inside the throne room, secrets are revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Sorry for the delay! Here is chapter 7, once again beta-read by the incredible Serinah!!! <3

Tall candles illuminated the marble pillars of the throne room, with delicate flowers and fine leaves etched on them in imitation of the garden outside. In between the lofty columns supporting the high ceiling stood majestic sculptures of former kings, separated by the blue carpet running down the middle of the room and up the raised platform. 

On the high throne of blue velvet and gilded gold, which extended sideways in the shape of wings to depict the royal eagle on the Valorian coat of arms was a hulk-sized giant of purple skin. He had a broad face, wide shoulders, with powerful arms and thick fingers, adorned with a total of five shimmering gems. 

Tony recognised the pair flanking the throne from the colours of their hair. The young male wore his silver hair long, with overgrown locks skimming his forehead, drawing attention to a pair of ice blue eyes. If he was _ice_ , the young lady had to be _fire_ , with her flowing auburn mane and piercing brown eyes burning holes in his. 

They were on the young side, perhaps in their late teens, but it was hard to tell with the way dragons aged. 

“Ziry Gaomas daor gimogon ilva,” the young male said. 

_He doesn’t know us._ They were speaking draconic, which Tony understood well enough, having assimilated Thanos’ proficiency in the language. 

The young lady replied, “Hen rhinka daor. Issa ia Stark. Issi aegenka smyth. Iksi separ collasi odres.” 

_Of course he doesn’t. He’s a Stark. They’re ironmongers. And we’re collateral damage._

The emperor cleared his throat. “Pietro, Wanda,” he called, reminding the pair that they were in the company of others. 

Their names evoked something in Tony’s memory. He was certain he’d never met them before. Yet, there was something familiar about their appearance. 

The man named Pietro stepped forward to introduce the titan in the room, using the common tongue this time. “Presenting Emperor Thanos, Commander of the legions of Anguisia. The Mad Titan, Masterlord and Overmaster. He, who rules with absolute power and unchallenged supremacy. Kneel before him and rise into the ranks of his great conquest.”

Steve let out a huff of disapproval, somehow managing to stare down at the usurper, even from the bottom of the stairs. 

The lady named Wanda frowned at this act of defiance and clenched her fingers into a fist, using her magic to force the reluctant king to his knees.

“Homo Sapiens,” Thanos scoffed, and his frightful features twisted in a cruel sneer. “You were made to be ruled, and in the end, you will always kneel.”

Fighting the magic controlling his body, Steve struggled to his feet. “Not to monsters like you,” he gritted out from between clenched teeth. 

Pietro looked mildly impressed. “Have you not listened to a word I said?” he asked, raising a brow. “Thanos is no _monster_. In our kingdom, he’s practically a god.” 

Steve looked as though he was about to insult the emperor, so Tony decided to beat him to it. “We’ve seen the gods,” Tony said, thinking of the venerable Thor and his spectacular storms. “And Chinny McChinface is nothing like them.” 

Eyes widened and jaws fell as the twins turned to look at Thanos, but the emperor just threw his head back and laughed, emphasising Tony’s point when his enormous chins caught the light. 

Stretching his back and raising himself to an impressive height, Thanos got to his feet and ambled down the long flight of stairs toward him. 

And Steve. 

As his heart pounded violently in his chest, Tony held his breath, keeping his shoulders back and chest out, looking directly at the titan’s repulsive face and his hard, twisted features, willing himself not to flinch. 

A deep voice rumbled past him and echoed throughout the room. “I take it that the berserkers have failed.” When Thanos spoke again, his voice was beside Tony’s ear, his hot breath on his cheek. “But it’s brought you to me, at long last. I’ve waited so long to see you. And truly, you are magnificent.”

If his skin hadn’t been covered in scales, goosebumps would surely have formed. “Wow. Okay,” he said, trying not to shudder. “While I appreciate the thought of you pining after me, I have to ask. What do you want?”

“You know what I want,” Thanos said.

“You’ve come a long way for nothing then,” Tony said. “It’s not here.”

The corners of his thin violet lips turned up in a smirk. “But it is,” Thanos said lightly, his voice reeking of confidence. 

He reached for Tony, as if to touch his face, but Steve rushed forward, striking Thanos on the side of his head with his shield. 

“Leave. Him. Alone,” Steve growled, as he struck the emperor a total of three times, all the while looking ferocious, his blue eyes burning with murderous rage.

Holding the top of Steve’s armoured headpiece, Thanos stared down at the struggling king with keen interest, studying his movements like one would some sort of exotic insect. 

Then, without warning, he ripped off his helmet and crushed it with one hand, as a terrified scream died in Tony's throat.

Violet eyes narrowed as Thanos looked carefully at Steve’s face. “Have we met?” he asked, turning Steve’s head from side to side. 

Steve raised his arm as if to swing his shield, only to have it caught by Thanos. With a loud snort, Thanos ripped the offending weapon from the king’s clenched fingers. 

“Guess not,” Thanos said, as he tossed the weapon to Pietro. “I would have remembered you,” he added, before waving an arm, sending a defenceless Steve flying across the room. 

“Steve!” Tony shouted as he darted after him, but Pietro was in the way, shield in hand. From over Pietro’s shoulder, he could see Steve lying in a lifeless heap, after possibly hitting his head against one of the marble pillars.

Tony glared at Pietro, whose eyes shone with mischief. “Dragonbone,” he said in amusement as he ran his fingers along the shield’s edge. “Magic metal and you’ve used it on a shield.”

Thanos chuckled. “It’s curious – how they’ve only scratched the surface and not looked within.”

“Speaking of looking within –” Wanda began, focusing her eyes, red and glowing red, on Tony.

“Go ahead, my child,” Thanos said, stepping aside for her to come forward and wrap the red vortex of her presence around Tony’s mind.

It felt like being swept into the midst of a powerful tornado, as Tony curled into a ball, sinking low into the ground in order to anchor himself to the marble floor.

“There’s a lot to unpack,” Wanda said, as she sifted through the thoughts racing through his mind, filled with the day’s discoveries and the new ones he would soon make. 

"Stop it," he tried to say, but was arrested in a fog between moving and being, unable to resist the invasion of his mind.

She probed deeper, narrowing her focus on Tony’s personal journey into becoming a dragon, going by the assumption that the heartstone had played a part. 

She found out about the medallion, the suppression of his powers, and the secrets he continued to keep. “You care too much about what they think,” she said, her frown deepening. “You can’t control their fear, only your own.” 

Tony winced when she began tugging on that thread, beginning with his iron fortress, the source of his pride and shame. She followed that thread back in time, pulling relentlessly at it until she arrived at the bright halo of Tony’s childhood. 

Tony gasped at the painful intrusion. In those moments, with his eyes watering and head feeling like it might explode, he wondered if he would survive it at all. It would have been easier to let her in, so she could find whatever she wanted, and leave. 

Yet, when Wanda pulled at the thread again and he felt his mind beginning to unravel, he found himself pulling right back. 

After Thanos had attacked him that night, Tony had passed out. Truly, he didn’t know what had happened to the heartstone. Nonetheless, there were things he remembered and those memories could implicate an innocent life. 

Concerned about snapping her only link to the heartstone, Wanda paused, as if to give him a breather, so Tony sucked in a deep breath and tried to breathe through the lingering pain. Scarcely had Tony regained control over his breathing before she was back inside his head, her red eyes boring through his with a calm look of determination. 

Still, he continued to resist. Tony filled his head with stray thoughts of golden hair, dazzling blue eyes, velvety soft lips and fair skin that blushed most prettily when the right words were said. 

Sometimes, he got the faces mixed up, with the features and colouring being so similar that Tony wondered if there was any difference at all.

 _Steve, Steve, Steve_ , he repeated over and over like a mantra, to avoid thinking of that fateful night.

By the time Wanda was done, Tony had crumpled to a heap, having to hide his head under his wing to manage the pain. If he was exhausted, so was she, for Wanda, trembling with exertion, had to be supported by her brother. 

Sitting on one of the steps, Wanda shared her findings. “Lo eza gnoleje hen doron, issa syrje ruarza, kostilus leda se gaomagon hen magi. Issi olvie kostoba spiel - cast ondoso ia kraj soceri.”

 _If he has knowledge of the stone, it’s very well hidden. It’s a powerful spell – cast by a powerful sorcerer._ Tony frowned at the words coming out of her mouth, making sense on their own but mystifying when put together. 

He chose not to dwell on them for the moment, making use of the respite to crawl toward Steve, but Thanos stood in his way. 

Arms crossed, he looked down at Tony’s slumped form. “You’re one of us now. Why do you resist giving me the stone? Why do you fight on their side?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Tony asked, looking worriedly at Steve’s motionless body from between the emperor’s thick legs.

The emperor’s hard features softened into a smile. “It’s love, then, I see. I’ve done some foolish things in the name of love. But you must know – that this love you have, is doomed.”

A day ago, Tony might have believed that, but not right now, when Steve had poured his heart out and told him how he felt. “No,” Tony said, stubbornly shaking his head. 

Thanos sighed. “My child, I’ve lived a hundred lifetimes. Unless you die by magic, you can expect to do the same. Should the war leave you unscathed, you will still have to face mortality. Whether by sword or the slow decay of time, the king will die. He will come to a glorious death, undimmed before the breaking of the world, but you will linger on in darkness, dwelling in your grief until all the trees have long faded. There is no future with him, but if you join us, you will find others – just like you.” 

“What?” Wanda muttered in disbelief, her face hard with anger, as Thanos offered Tony his hand. 

Tony glared at the large purple hand, glowing with violent magic, and slapped it away. 

“The sons of men die indeed,” Tony said, “and leave the world. Death is their fate, a gift that even the powers would envy. And here’s where you have it wrong. A thing isn’t beautiful because it lasts. I’d spend a lifetime with him before joining the likes of you.”

Thanos let out a heavy sigh. “I see you’ve made your choice. But did you think it through? These humans, frail and weak, with no magic to wield, will come to an end – sooner rather than later.” 

Tony slowly got to his feet and looked the titan right in the eye. “Is that why you want the stone – to end the human race?”

Thanos shrugged. “As they have tried to end me.”

“Wait,” Wanda said, interrupting them. “You never said anything about the human race. And why are you trying to recruit him? Our mission is to destroy the Starks and bring an end to the Iron Age. We were supposed to stop the war and oppression, make the world a better place.”

“It will be better,” Thanos said.

She frowned. “How? How will it be better,” she demanded, “when _all_ the mortals are dead?”

From across the room, Steve groaned, drawing their attention for a brief moment.

With some measure of respect, Thanos studied the king, who was struggling to get to his feet. “They’ve had every opportunity to improve, but there is no room for the weak,” he said.

Pietro moved forward to stand beside his sister. “And who decides who’s weak?” Pietro asked, as he turned the shield over to look at its underside.

Thanos shrugged. “War decides. The strong survive, the weak –”

In a fit of anger, Pietro flung the shield onto the ground, leaving cracks in the marble floor. “Then, why did Father have to die?” he asked, sending chills down Tony’s spine with his frosty tone.

“You know why,” Thanos said. “It was Stark.”

“What?” Tony interrupted. “Wait, wait a minute –”

Wanda raised her arm to cut him off, the look in her eyes turning hard with resolve. “Howard Stark took my father from me,” she said, as she levelled her gaze at Tony. “And today, I will take everything from him.” 

With magic, she lifted Tony from the ground. A red mist surrounded his body, lifting his body, wings and all, and trapping him against a pillar. Wanda brought her fingers together, and he felt his windpipe beginning to constrict.

Tony’s head felt light and dizzy and his vision began to blur before whiting out. Unable to inhale or exhale, he was prevented from using _firebreath_ , defenceless against her chokehold. 

As his head began to slump backward, he heard the distinct sound of a sword flying across the room. 

The grasp around his neck loosened, and he fell to the floor. Bracing himself, Tony sucked in a lungful of air, gasping desperately to fill his starving lungs with the oxygen he needed.

When the vision returned to his eyes, Pietro was holding Steve’s sword, having caught it just before it pierced his sister’s throat. 

Scoffing, Pietro ran his fingers along the cool blade he’d caught. “Homo Sapiens and their steel,” he said, pausing to admire the sapphire stone in the pommel.

“Homo Draconi and their gems,” Tony retorted, almost on instinct, trying to mask his concern for Steve, who was being held by magic against another marble column at the end of the room. 

Rising to his feet, Tony lengthened his body, and glowered fiercely at both Pietro and Wanda as he prepared for them to make their next move. 

But, they didn’t, staying where they were as looks were exchanged.

“He used to say that,” Wanda murmured, gazing thoughtfully at Tony as her trembling hands relaxed her grip on Steve’s throat. 

“Who?”

“Our father,” Pietro said. 

_Oh._

An older version of Pietro’s face, with grey eyes and silver hair came to his mind. It belonged to a man who read minds and moved things, just like Wanda did. And if King Maxwell of Anguisia was their father, they had to be the Eisenhardt twins. 

“Your father,” he said. “I knew him.”

There was the familiar sweeping at the surface of his mind once again. The search was focused, beginning and ending with the keywords _Homo Sapiens and their steel_. 

While Tony continued to keep his walls up, he opened the right doors for Wanda to find the right memories, deep and vivid, undimmed by the long passage of time. 

“Father,” she breathed, as she arrived. 

There were the snippets of conversations, the heated debates that went on through the night, but underneath it all, the mutual respect was undeniable. 

Then, they’d found the orphaned dragonet with a broken wing, trapped on top of the Raorus Falls.

Max couldn’t fly up to him, not with his wings encumbered by the narrow gorge. His attempts of telekinesis had been rudely rebuffed, with the young dragon wailing in terror and twisting out of the way each time he found himself being lifted off the cliff’s edge. 

So, it was Howard who scaled the wall with just his hobnail boots. It was Howard who sang to the dragonet and gained his trust. It was Howard who cradled the young dragon and carried him down at the risk of his own life, taking him back to the palace, where they raised him as one of their own. 

“They reached an understanding,” Wanda said quietly.

Tony led her to another memory – the signing of a peace treaty, before King Maxwell left. 

“You saw him leave?” she asked in a breathless whisper, shaken by the thought that Tony was one of the last few people to have seen him alive. 

Tony felt incredible pain mixed with rage, and they weren’t his own. He shuddered as Wanda's memories spilled into Tony’s head. He was shown a flower-filled raft, with her father’s dead body in the middle, a dagger impaled in his chest. 

Tony would recognise the curved blade with red rubies encrusted on its sheath and scabbard anywhere. _Ironclaw_ – it was a Stark heirloom and it had famously belonged to Howard Stark. 

“No,” he protested, careful not to antagonise her, well aware of her iron grip round Steve’s neck. “Ironclaw was a gift,” he said as delicately as he could. 

“Ironclaw is a family heirloom. Why would your father gift it to mine?”

“He gave us one of yours,” Tony said, inviting her back inside to see for herself – how King Max had placed the bloodstone, the same one that had later saved him from Thanos, in a gold locket and hung it around Tony’s neck. 

_Homo Draconi and their gems_ , muttered Howard, quite tenderly, as he offered his dagger with its jewelled sheath in response. 

King Max had unsheathed the blade to admire the smooth blade. _Homo Sapiens and their steel_ , he retorted, with a fond roll of his eyes. 

Wanda stumbled backward into her brother’s arms. A soft cry of anguish escaped her lips as her knees hit the marble, with Pietro still holding her, glaring daggers at Tony. Wanda took his hand and pressed it to her forehead, showing him what she’d learnt. 

Pietro’s eyes grew wide as he cycled between shock and betrayal and anger. Then, with their faces set into firm lines of determination, the twins turned on the emperor, who was sitting on the throne once more, still looking confident in his righteousness.

“It was you,” Wanda hissed, pointing her finger at her father’s murderer. “Father changed his mind about the humans, and you had him killed. You even had us think it was Stark! You lied!”

Thanos looked at Wanda calmly, with an almost-bored expression on his face. “I said it was Stark’s fault. Where’s the lie in that? If not for his meddling, Max wouldn’t have changed his mind. Do you think I enjoyed watching him die? Max was one of the greatest dragons of all time.”

“And what about Ivan?” Pietro demanded, reminding them of the dracastrom who was killed when his lightning bolts bounced off Steve’s shield and back at him.

Thanos shrugged. “Collateral damage,” he said. 

“Was it worth it?” Wanda asked bitterly, releasing Steve from her magic to direct her pain and anger to where it belonged. 

“Yes,” Thanos said. He raised his hands, showing them the five different-coloured stones, glowing on his fingers. 

As Thanos got to his feet, Tony got ready to stand in front of Steve, but the king was already charging at Thanos, sliding under the titan’s arm and turning back around to land a punch on Thanos’ gut and another on his chin. When the emperor stumbled backward with the impact, Steve grabbed his right fist. 

Pietro held the other, and together, they tried to divest him of his rings as Wanda’s red mist surrounded the emperor’s body.

Tony stood in front of Thanos, trying to find an opening, which was close to impossible, with Steve and Pietro constantly moving. 

Thanos, however, barely moved, watching them impassively, a bored look on his face, until the mindstone landed on the marble floor with a loud clink. As Wanda drew the stone into her palm, she released her hold on Thanos. 

The emperor, glowing with rage, swung his arms back and hit Steve on his head, grazing the sides of his face with his rings, leaving streaks of blood running down his cheek.

Tony almost choked on his fire, holding it back so he wouldn’t burn Steve in his shock. “Steve!” he shouted, leaping up and landing in front of Steve and wrapping his wing around him, bracing themselves for another punishing blow. 

When he looked up, Thanos’ fist was in mid-air, held in place by Wanda’s magic. The mindstone was on her finger, glowing a bright orange. She held on firmly, her face and body straining with effort.

“You know,” Pietro began. “Mortals are odd. They think order and chaos are opposites, and try to control what they don’t know. But there is grace in their failings. I think you missed that.” 

Wanda looked at Steve, face bruised and bloody, but still getting up. “They’re... something else.”

“They’re doomed, Wanda,” Thanos said. “And you’re unbelievably naive.” 

“What do you expect? I’ve been living my whole life with my eyes closed. What do you think will happen when I can finally see?” she asked, her eyes glowing red with power as she exhaled, her scarlet wings spreading behind her.

Thanos followed suit, wings of purple sprouting from his shoulders, with four stones on the tips of his wings, glowing bright with red, yellow, green and blue.

Pietro, now also a dragon, was flying in circles around Thanos, still trying to rip the stones from his wings. 

Wanda raised her wing, holding Thanos in place with a stream of scarlet energy, as she used her other wing to shoot fireballs in his direction. Smirking at her response, Thanos created a blue-purple energy field around him quite effortlessly, rendering him immune to her attacks. 

“You…” she growled, baring her teeth.

His eyes were full of sadness as he looked at her. 

“Really? Tears?” she asked, scoffing in disbelief. 

The tears weren’t for himself. They were the tears of betrayal, those of a person about to take the life of a loved one. The titan’s pupils glowed bright blue. With a burst of energy, he threw Pietro off his back and raised his talons. 

Pietro moved fast, but Steve was closer, so it was Steve who came between Thanos and Wanda, as Thanos raised his arms.

“Nooo!” Tony screamed, as he surged forward and landed in front of Steve, right as Thanos pierced his sword-like talons into his sides, scorching his skin with fire and lightning, acid searing deep into his wounds. As Thanos withdrew his talons, fresh blood poured from Tony’s wounds. 

Tony staggered from the impact, steadying himself as panicked screams swirled around him. Summoning whatever remained of his strength, he channelled his power into a steady jet of the hottest fire and directed it all to the middle of Thanos’ chest.

Thanos howled, his hideous face contorted in great pain. Thanos looked down at his wounded chest, glowing with burning embers and ash. The titan stumbled backward, clearly in no state to fight them or retrieve the mindstone. 

So, he clapped his hands. 

And vanished from their sight. 

Tony’s wounds burned like fire, and he tried and failed to keep his balance, finally falling backward into Steve’s arms. Black filled the edges of his vision as Tony felt himself being gently lowered onto the ground. 

Tony felt his horns retreating into his head, his wings retracting inside his body. Scales softened into skin as his body returned to his birth form to conserve his energy. 

“Schellehead,” Steve whispered, tears welling up in his eyes as he looked in horror at Tony’s wounds. “We’ll get you fixed up. You’re going to be fine. Come on, you’ve got to stay strong for –” 

When he looked up, Steve was staring at him with his mouth open. “Tony?” he said, his eyes full of disbelief and pain. “Why is it you?”

“No, no, no, Tony. Please,” the king pleaded as he tore the fabric of his tunic, wrapping it around Tony’s wounds to stanch the bleeding. 

He vaguely heard Wanda shouting at Pietro to fetch Lord Strange from the fields, as Steve desperately tried to close his wounds. Tony focused on his own heartbeat getting slower, his breath coming in shallow gasps. 

“Where is his treasure?” Wanda demanded, pacing the carpet in a panic. “We need his treasure.” 

“The blue house beside the keep, with white flowers in the garden. You’ll find it in the bedroom all the way at the back. There’s a chest under the bed. That’s where it is,” Steve said, explaining where Tony had hidden his treasure chest.

“It’s you,” Steve said, as Wanda left the room, the sounds of her footsteps fading away.

“It’s me,” he gasped.

Steve cradled his human hand, already wet with his hot tears. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked. 

“I was going to, but at first, you were afraid and then you said you knew – all about me and the dragon.” 

“I’ve been a fool,” Steve said, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Yeah,” Tony agreed, his eyelids beginning to feel heavy. “Me too.” 

“No, Tony. Stay with me,” Steve said in a strained voice. 

Fumbling with his toolbelt, he pulled out a small wooden box and placed it on Tony’s palm. Tony remembered it from his last night at shieldberg. 

“You never opened it,” Steve said and when he saw that Tony could not sit up, he offered to do it for him. 

“No, no, Tony, watch this. Look! Don’t close your eyes,” Steve pleaded, his voice rising above the sound of hot tears falling onto the marbled floor. 

Tony forced his eyes open. The wooden box was on the floor and a small top was spinning on top of it. It was small, about the size and shape of an acorn, but slightly wider in the middle, similar to the seed of the heartewoode tree. 

Tony’s blurry eyes drifted to Steve’s mussed-up hair and his blue eyes shimmering with tears in a scene that was only too familiar. 

Memories of the frightened boy, with the lightest of hair and the brightest of eyes, begging Tony not to close his eyes all those years ago in the Wanderer’s Woods.

“It’s you,” he said, remembering the terrified child he’d shielded from Thanos’ fire what felt like a lifetime ago.

“Yes,” Steve said, taking his hand and lacing his fingers through his.

It all made sense to him now – his instant attraction to Steve, how it had felt like magic, and indeed, it was. 

The top was whirring quietly away, reminding Tony of the young boy spinning the heartewoode seed, desperately pleading with Tony to _look, look, please look_ so that he wouldn’t close his eyes.

“It’s going to be okay,” Tony said, reaching for Steve, trying to dab away a tear at the corner of his eye. “There are worse ways to die.”

“No, you won’t. I forbid it. Do you hear me, Anthony Stark? You are not allowed to die.” A loud sob was torn from Steve’s lips, as he squeezed his hand harder. “Tony! No! Don’t go,” he pleaded, his voice cracking with emotion.

“Look at how it spins and it rises,” Tony whispered. “It’s been going a long time, that’s amazing, but eventually, it has to fall.” 

“No, it won’t. It goes on forever, like you. Look, my love, it flies.”

With a slight shift of his head, Tony could see the wooden top, indeed hovering above the wooden box as it spun. “It’s brilliant,” Tony whispered, each word causing him excruciating pain. 

Steve looked at him in horrified alarm. “Where’s the princess? I need to help her,” he said, getting to his feet. 

Tony clung on desperately to his sleeve. “Don’t go,” he pleaded, with what felt like his last breath.

“You need it – your treasure. The magic will heal you.”

Tony found himself smiling weakly. “Then, stay,” he said, “Tesaurimea – my treasure. It’s always been you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! :) 
> 
> I can't believe we just have two more chapters to go!!! I am mostly happy with the last two chapters, although they still need to be beta-ed and go through rounds of editing. I hope to post this all by mid-February (edit: probably later because I"m really burnt out right now, 9 February 2021)! If you're still reading this, despite my horrible update schedule, you are amazing and I love you! <3


	8. Now, we wait.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and his friends try (nearly) everything they can to revive Tony. 
> 
> AKA: A bunch of people standing in a room watching Tony sleep.
> 
> Thank you so much to the amazing WritingSesh / Serinah for beta-reading this chapter!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This includes some mention of dubious medical practices /quackery inspired by historical medical treatments. I have no idea how accurate they are, except that I came across those examples a number of times when I did research and they happened to fit the story, so... please ignore any inaccuracies. Thank you very much!

Morning light filtered through the drapes to bathe Tony in its glow. Amid the strings of pearls and chains of gold neatly laid out on the bed, the dragonstones shone brightly, casting streaks of red, yellow, green and blue upon the high domed ceiling.

Steve sat down carefully on the edge of the bed and brushed away Tony’s long bangs to gaze at the dark lashes resting against pale cheeks. He brought the glass of cool water to Tony’s parched lips, willing them to open. 

They did not.

Steve watched the rise and fall of Tony’s chest and listened for the faint beating of his heart. Then, he took the hand closer to him, cold and clammy and completely limp, and pressed his lips to Tony’s knuckles.

For a moment, Steve thought he felt the slight twitching of fingers, but he quickly dismissed it as a figment of his overactive imagination. Days of sleep deprivation and a constant exposure to poison had surely put a strain on his own body, which he was soon coming to distrust. 

For close to a week, Tony had slipped in and out of consciousness, spending most of his time in the latter state. While initially relieved that Tony had been mercifully spared from his suffering, a part of Steve was beginning to grow afraid.

The greatest sorcerers had come together at the behest of Lord Strange, employing everything from traditional medicines to magic in their attempts to save Tony. Herbs had been gathered, potions brewed, poultices made. Prayers had been said, rituals conducted to slow the poison’s progress. 

Yet, Tony’s condition was deteriorating by the day. causing Steve to fear that he might never again gaze into those brilliant brown eyes that had once dazzled with shimmering flecks of gold.

A knock on the door had Steve shuffling to find Bruce outside, looking worn and dishevelled and clearly in need of rest, despite smelling of the fresh herbs he’d brought. 

Bruce looked at the bed. “Still asleep?” he didn’t quite ask, brushing past Steve without waiting for an answer. Steve followed him back to the bed, and watched while Bruce peeled back the bandages around Tony’s middle, swallowing the bile at the back of his throat as the sickly-sweet stench of putrid flesh permeated the room. 

“They’re not healing,” Bruce sighed, his brows furrowed together, and Steve could see how he was speaking the truth. 

Tony’s sides were covered in eight vertical lines – four long gashes on each side, with blood still pooling from them. Sharp talons had pierced arteries and punctured deep tissue, driving a lethal dose of poison into Tony’s body.

Bruce dabbed at the wounds to clean the dried blood, rinsing the towel in a basin of warm water, before starting over. As he went over one of the deeper gashes, Tony whimpered and twisted his body, even as his eyes stayed closed.

Steve sat down on the bed and placed his arms around Tony’s limp shoulders. He ran his fingers through the matted locks, humming a melody in his ear to soothe the distressed prince. “I’m sorry,” Steve said. “I’m so sorry, my love,” he repeated, over and over, until the loud cries subsided into whimpers and faded into silence.

By the time the poultice was changed and Tony’s wounds were redressed, Steve was exhausted and in desperate need of some sleep himself. 

But his nightmare had only just begun.

He must have let the strain show as Bruce was looking over in concern. “It’s the last one,” he told him, with a reassuring smile. 

Steve nodded. 

The Asgardians had used antitoxins to treat snake venom before, with varying degrees of success, so Strange and Bruce had modelled their treatment plan after theirs, with some fine adjustments for a human patient. 

It required the extraction of the poison from Tony’s wounds, which would then be introduced to a healthy body. Extracting and distilling the blood of the human subject would yield an antidote, which was to be the solution for saving Tony’s life. 

Steve had volunteered, of course, because what kind of monster wouldn’t let the most powerful mages in the realm experiment on him to save the man he loved?

***

The armchair had once been the hull of a retired warship, salvaged and made into castle furniture. Steve was particularly fond of the wood grain, dyed a sombre brown and all of its salt-soaked swirls. 

In his chair, with the ornate arms that rose on both sides and a back that was tall with carvings, Steve liked to imagine himself on the _Golden Eagle_ , the wind in his hair as he rode the waves. Sometimes, he drifted off on an adventure, book in hand, but mostly, he just enjoyed gazing outside the window as he pondered the secrets of the universe. 

Today, it would keep him anchored while the tempest raged. 

“Ready?” Bruce asked when he returned, holding the quill of a bird in his hand. 

Steve swallowed nervously and nodded. “Yes,” he murmured, fixing his eyes on Tony’s sleeping face. 

There was the light prick of the quill on the inside of his elbow, which sent poison searing through his veins toward his chest and the rest of his body. Steve squeezed his eyes shut and focused on his breathing, doing his best to ignore the nausea pooling in his belly. 

White knuckles contrasted against the dark wood as Steve gripped the arms to steady himself, even as the chair’s legs scraped noisily against the hardwood floor. Knees were brought to his chest as he hugged them tightly, so as not to sink into despair. 

Wave after wave crashed into him, as the blood meant to transport oxygen and nutrients through his body began killing him on the inside. There were small lulls that gave him hope, until the surging tides would come again and cruelly extinguish that brief spark. 

Steve had been wounded by arrows, slashed by swords, pierced by spears. He prided himself on his tolerance of pain. And still, he wouldn’t wish his misery on his greatest foe. 

Watery eyes drifted to the uniformly grey wall behind the headboard, which really was a mosaic of humble stones that varied in shape and size, made into a masterpiece by the most skilled of masons. 

Over the last five days, while in the deepest throes of agony, Steve learned that there were a total of 8096 stones on the wall. 616 of them had rounded corners and 1610 had squared ones, with the rest of the stones having a mix of both. 1872 were large, 2108 of them were mid-sized, 3490 of them were small, and the rest were so tiny that Steve had missed them on the first count. 

By the time he had identified 1218 stones with light scratches on them from years of wear, the pain in his body was beginning to subside – indicating that the venom had run its course.

Bruce was by his side, handkerchief in hand. “How are you feeling?” he asked, dabbing away the beads of perspiration gathered on Steve’s forehead. 

“Fine,” he wheezed, still catching his breath. 

Bruce nodded. “Now, the extraction. You know how it is. It shouldn’t hurt – not as much,” he said. 

Steve had to remind himself to unclench his fist as the quill pierced his skin, but just as Bruce had promised, it was a mild discomfort compared to what he’d already been through. As always, Steve turned to face Tony, and Bruce, with an excellent technique and a gentle touch, extracted his blood, which he released into a tall canister, filling it to its brim. 

Noting his weakened state, Bruce offered him a small glass containing a concoction of boosters, including a few precious drops of dragontears. “Here,” he said. “This will help you feel better.” 

Steve hesitated as he studied the glass canister containing Strange’s dwindling supply, wondering if they were better off reserving the fluid for Tony’s treatment. “I don’t think –” he began. 

“Don’t think. Just drink,” Bruce ordered, bringing the cup to his lips and tipping it toward him, forcing Steve to gulp it down so as not to waste a drop. 

Satisfied, Bruce took the glass from him and turned his attention to other chores. "I’ll restart the fire,” he said when he noticed the dying embers in the grate. 

Steve nodded absently and sank back into his armchair, prepared to spend the rest of the morning in it, keeping vigil over Tony. Time slowed down and the day stretched ahead, as a steady stream of visitors came and went. 

Periodically, Sam and Bucky would enter and give him a report of the kingdom’s affairs. Tony hadn’t been their only casualty from that day at the Gladioli Fields. Apart from the wounded they had to tend to, bodies had to be brought home, heroes honoured with the proper rites, arrangements made so their families would be taken care of. 

Each time they entered the room, their arms were laden with gifts. That morning, Sam brought back some of Mrs Phillips’ meat pies and an assortment of cheeses from the Coulsons. Bucky had a bread basket from the Simmonses in one hand and a cheery basket of seasonal fruit from the Shaws in the other, bursting with oranges, strawberries and cherries. Together with the large bouquet of white daisies the Johnsons had sent that morning, the gifts brought some much-needed cheer to an otherwise austere home. 

The constant supply of presents kept their visitors well-fed and in relatively good spirits, allowing them all to focus on Tony. Thus, a grateful Steve spent his afternoons writing letters to bereaved families, expressing his condolences and thanking them for their generous gifts and well wishes, for keeping Prince Anthony in their thoughts, even as they mourned their own dead. 

Despite his poor appetite, Steve forced himself to partake of the food. He had no wish to squander the efforts of the well-meaning townsfolk. Neither did he wish to worry his dear mother and friends. 

There were the constant reminders to take it easy, and to rest, which he promptly cast aside. Pacing around in tight circles kept the fatigue out of his limbs and his gritty eyes were warded off by the occasional bout of tears. 

He took no notice of their voices, focusing instead on Peter reading by Tony’s side. The young page read tirelessly in an upbeat voice, pausing occasionally to look at Tony’s sleeping face, as if anticipating a witty anecdote or a humorous quip – which didn’t come.

They never did. 

As a child, Sarah had often read _Beowulf_ to him, so Steve was familiar with the heroic conquests by the King of Geats, finding rich inspiration in his courage to face off against giants, dragons and the like.

It was a universal story of greed – for gold and glory. Yet, the same tale, read by a dragonet who’d been orphaned at the hands of mankind, bore little resemblance to his bedtime stories of his childhood. 

Was the dragon, content with guarding his treasure in his lair, really the villain? And was Beowulf who sought the dragon out even after he’d already ceased his attacks, truly the hero of the story?

Perhaps, a different poem was written in draconic. The Anguisians would tell of a dragon who lived in peace before the men arrived, clad in cool metal, with cold eyes and colder blades, to pilfer their gems and gold and magic. 

Knowing that Tony was a dragon, like the good-natured Peter, and the honourable Rhodes, and how even Wanda and Pietro could see past their own pain to do what was right, he realised that it had never been the dragons he feared, but pure, unadulterated evil. 

And that had always existed in any form. 

Adding to this epiphany was the truth about Tony’s medallion. Neither a token of love nor the source of Tony’s powers, it was merely a contraption to suppress Tony’s powers, for him to hide amongst his peers, without fear of retribution, and that had even extended to Steve.

Steve had been fearful to some degree, but only on Tony’s behalf. He wasn’t afraid of all dragons, and least of all of Tony. Still, he grimaced as he recalled the thoughtless words that had slipped out of his mouth, which must have surely hurt the man he loved and deepened the rift between them. 

He’d sworn to take care of Tony, right in front of the sacred rock, to love and cherish and care for him – to be his true fortress, a shield from his foe. 

And clearly, he had failed. 

***

Lights moved as the sun climbed to its highest point, brightening the room with each moment that passed. From across the room, jars and bottles clinked in accompaniment to the raindrops drumming steadily against their windows. 

It was late afternoon when Lord Strange entered the bedroom through a portal, with Thor and Loki behind him. Having managed to avoid the drizzle outside, the trio arrived relatively dry, albeit soaked in perspiration and blood.

When Thanos retreated to Dragon Rocke in Onyx Bay, the ancestral castle of the Eisenhardts, his horde of dragons had followed, leaving Symkaria and Attilan largely undefended, thus giving Kings Stephan and Black Bolt the opportunity to drive out the invaders. 

It was a busy time for the stonekeepers as they assisted the allied kingdoms in wiping out the last traces of Thanos from their lands. Yet, each afternoon, they arrived at Steve and Tony’s cottage without fail, often bloodied and bruised from battling tyrant scum, to monitor Tony’s condition and discuss the next steps for his recovery.

For all that, they had Steve’s eternal gratitude.

In the corner of the room, Bruce and Strange were huddled over the calcinator, and Strange was using his magic to extract the antidote from Steve’s blood, distilling the clear solution into a glass bottle. Lord Strange muttered an incantation, which caused the potion to bubble and turn a shimmering white, before he vanished inside a portal. 

“It’s ready, my king,” Bruce said, holding up a small vial in his hand, just as Lord Strange reappeared with King Howard and Queen Maria behind him, wearing hopeful looks on their careworn faces for the first time in days. 

There was a general air of cheerful anticipation and Steve hoped, for the sake of all present, that the antidote would work, that Tony would make a full recovery and come back to them – his loving family and friends. 

It was to be a long, hard wait. 

While Tony barely responded to the first and second injections, the third one brought about a distinct reaction, even if the muffled groan and the quiet trembling hadn’t quite been the one they were expecting. 

Steve was already by his side, holding Tony’s hand. “What’s going on?” he asked, looking desperately at Strange, who ignored his question in favour of observing Tony’s response.

“Is this normal?” Steve pressed, turning to Bruce this time. 

“This is the antidote working,” Bruce told him. “Once Tony’s body completes the healing process, the spasms will stop.” 

Steve nodded, relieved to hear that the potion was working as planned. “You hear that, my love?” he whispered softly into Tony’s ear. “It’s just the antidote working. You’re going to be fine.”

Tony just whimpered in response.

Steve held on to Bruce’s wrist. “He’s in pain,” he said. Can we – can we give him anything?” he asked. 

“I’m afraid not,” Bruce told him, his warm eyes full of sympathy. “The antidote is rather unstable and interactions with other medicines might render it ineffective. We can’t take the risk.”

Steve stayed close as Bruce continued to administer the antidote, holding on to Tony’s hand, even as the prince remained in a state of restless sleep. Distressed by the soft cries of pain escaping Tony’s mouth, Steve lost count of the number of times Bruce pressed the quill into Tony’s arm until it finally came to a stop.

“Why are we stopping?” Steve asked, when Bruce began wrapping the quill in a paper towel, as if preparing to dispose of it. 

“We’re not,” Bruce explained. “We’ve just given him all that we have.” 

“But – he – he’s still – ” 

“Yes,” Bruce said tersely. “Now, we wait.” 

“Oh,” Steve said, feeling all the air leaving his body as he watched Tony’s face closely for signs of movement, desperate to see how the fight progressed. 

They had deployed their full strength and their best troops were already on the field, charging toward the enemy, hoping to obliterate them. However, should the enemy prove to be more than their match, their troops would be overrun and all would be lost. 

Anxious minutes stretched into hours, and despite their best hopes, Tony showed no signs of waking. It was only after an interminable wait, when it became clear that he wasn’t going to, that Lord Strange made a short statement to confirm their worst fears. 

Steve’s own stomach twisted uneasily as he looked at Bruce in confusion.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce offered. “We thought it would work.” 

Steve was about to say something, to ask questions, but Queen Maria had beaten him to it.

The queen was glaring at Lord Strange, her small hands balled up into fists. “Why won’t it work?” she demanded, looking as though she was ready to strike.

“We’re dealing with powerful magic,” Lord Strange reminded her. “We can’t always predict how it would react to our treatment.

“But you’ve treated him before,” she continued, not at all bothered by the stares in their direction. 

“Yes, but Thanos had one stone then. This time, he had four.” 

“So, we’re just giving up? We’re just going to let him die?” 

At that, all the air left his lungs, because Tony’s mother was right. Tony could die. He was dying right in front of them all, and there was not a thing that anyone could do to stop it from happening.

“We’ve done everything that we can,” Strange assured the queen. “But you have to be prepared,” he added, briefly looking in Steve’s direction.

“You’re the greatest sorcerer in the realm. If you can’t save him…” Maria said, taking the sorcerer’s arm. “Then, no one can,” she added, her voice breaking under the strain. 

“Your majesty,” he told her, his voice full of sympathy. “At this stage, only Tony has the power to save himself.” 

There was a faint cry, before the queen’s shoulders slumped backward and Howard caught her before she fell. Swiftly, he led his wife to the nearest armchair, as Nat hurried over with some smelling salts. 

“I don’t understand,” Steve said, looking around the room, noticing the defeat in everyone’s eyes. “The antidote works. It’s just that we don’t have enough. Why aren’t we making more?”

“I’m sorry, my friend. You’re the only one who can make the antidote,” Thor explained. “But we’re out of tears, and without it, the poison will kill you.” 

“I don’t care,” Steve said, obstinately shaking his head. “Do it.” 

“You’ve been through a lot. We cannot keep putting your life at risk,” Bruce said, looking at him in concern. 

“We need Tony to stop Thanos,” Steve argued. “If we don’t save him, a lot of people are going to die. One life cannot stand in the way of Thanos’ defeat.”

“My king,” Bruce said. “You are asking a lot. We don’t trade lives. That’s not our way. You know that.” 

“We don’t decide for others – no. But Bruce,” he said, his voice pleading now. “This is my choice. Tony is the chosen one and I’m just – me.”

“All life is precious, my friend,” Thor gently remarked. “Each in his way must serve the realm.” 

“That’s what I’m trying to do!” he said, almost shouting. “No, you don’t understand,” he continued, addressing all of them. “Thanos was going to kill me. I shouldn’t be alive, unless it’s for a reason. And I finally know what it is.” 

Thor put a hand on his shoulder. “Not like this, my friend. If something happens to you, Anthony will never forgive himself.” 

Bruce nodded. “He needs you, Steve.” 

Steve wanted to laugh. 

Why would Tony need him? If Steve hadn’t been there in the Wandering Woods, Thanos would never have attacked Tony. Tony would have lived a normal life, making weapons from the safety of his castle, living to a ripe, old age. 

Everything was his fault. Tony didn’t need him. He never had. He’d lived for months up in the mountains like a dragon should, until he’d come at Steve’s call. 

"If we don't do this, he might – he might never find out anyway," he said.

Strange responded by saying something about Tony needing him but Steve’s head was already spinning with the empty words that were swirling around him, none of which made any sense. 

How was he needed? Even now, he was getting in the way of the sorcerers, arguing with them as they tried to come up with an alternative solution. If anyone was standing in the way of Tony’s recovery, it was him. 

At this realisation, his stomach dropped, sudden and sickening, and he was running before he could hear the words he was leaving behind. 

It had stopped raining by then, but Steve wouldn’t have cared either way. He ran out of the bedroom and out of the door, speeding past the cottages and out the South Gate into the garden. 

He drew his sword and pointed it at the heavens, before swinging it hard against the heartewoode tree. His chest tightened, causing his ribs to collapse into his lungs, forcing the air out as he collapsed, lying on the ground, limbs heavy and unable to move. 

The grief surged within him, overflowing as hot tears from his eyes. They rolled off the sides of his cheeks and onto the ground, mixing with the rain before disappearing into the soil. Through the tears, he could still see the deep gash against the trunk filling up quickly with red sap. 

A relatively hardy tree, the heartewoode would keep growing and if they were blessed, it would one day bloom and bear fruit. Life would go on, with or without Tony, whether or not Steve wished to be a part of it. 

Shallow breaths hitched around his sobs as he remembered the desperation of watching a ten-year-old Tony bleeding out in front of him, with each breath appearing to be his last. 

He lay on the ground, still damp with rain, feeling the moist grass soaking his clothes and his skin, the thought of being submerged in water and drowning in it preferable to the prospect of living in a world without Tony Stark. 

A hand reached out to him just as he felt himself going under, and Steve soon found himself in his mother’s arms.

“They don’t understand,” he said, muffling his sobs into her shoulder.

“No, they don’t,” she agreed. 

“It’s so hard - watching the love of your life in pain and wasting away, without being able to do a thing to stop it. They don’t know how it feels!” 

“I do,” came his mother’s quiet voice as she kept her arms around him. 

It brought back memories of being wrapped in blankets, the hacking coughs that hurt his lungs, fevers that wouldn’t break, nights when death was close. 

If anyone knew how he felt, it was Sarah, who’d seen him through each bout of illness, dying a little each time even as she kept her chin up, going about her duties like they were all that mattered. 

Sarah had never been a particularly religious woman, but Steve had heard her in those bleak moments with him at death’s door, pleading with the gods as she offered her life in exchange for his. 

And just a few moments ago, he was asking the same of Bruce.

All lives were precious – in war and peace, because behind each person who called Valoria home were parents, spouses and children too. 

There were others like Sarah – incredible people who kept their kingdom going with their blood, sweat and tears. Even in mourning, they made cheese and baked bread. They tended to their flowers and harvested their fruit. 

These invisible labours often went unnoticed, like the concrete that held together his mosaic of stones. Without it, a kingdom of earth’s mightiest heroes would be torn asunder, pulled apart like loose rock. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, unable to hold back the sobs now. “You must be so mad. I’m always making you worry.” 

“Not mad, my child. I do worry sometimes, yes,” she assured him, gently running her hand through his hair. “But you always make me proud.”

They stayed like that a while more, and some of Steve’s anxiety began to wash away. “Is he – is he going to die?” 

“No,” Sarah said. “Of course, he’s not.” 

“How do you know?” he asked.

“Same way I knew you were going to make it, despite what they said. It’s how I knew that you would one day grow to be tall and strong, just like your father, and burn brightly above as you leave your mark.”

“What if you’re wrong?”

“Then, we move on,” she said. “My child, we have no control over life and death. We’ve never had. All we can do is love them as best as we can while they’re alive.”

“I miss him,” he said, heart aching as he thought of his own father, who’d left them all too soon. 

“I miss him too,” she admitted. “But my heart is full, knowing that he died for what he believed in, and as he took his dying breath, he knew just how much he was loved.” 

Steve pulled Sarah closer, her small frame fitting easily into his arms, wondering how she made it through those difficult years, raising a sickly child all by herself with no partner to catch her in her rare moments of weakness.

She never had the time to grieve, to mourn her loss. She might have, in private, but in front of Steve, she was always brave and wise and calm. 

“What do I do?” he asked, relying on her counsel, as always. 

“The only thing that you can,” she answered, looking at him with a meaningful smile. “Your very best. And it starts with facing your problems, instead of running away.”

Steve felt his face crumpling and a sob escaped his throat. Those were Joseph’s own words to him when he explained why he had to leave them to fight in the Great War. “Because that’s what heroes do,” Steve sobbed.

“Yes,” she said, closing her eyes for a few painful seconds, and when she opened them again, they were brimming with tears. 

Steve leaned into her embrace. “I’m so tired,” he confessed. 

“Then, rest,” she said, offering him her shoulder, as she’d done so many times before. 

He did. 

***

It was evening when Steve returned. 

The twins had arrived in his absence, and Wanda had taken Steve’s place on the edge of the bed, using magic to lull Tony into deep, restorative sleep. Out of habit, Pietro was standing protectively beside her, despite the lack of any immediate threats.

Outside, the sky was on fire and Tony’s face was aglow with the last of the day’s rays. While twilight was upon them, the setting sun, together with the stars it would bring, was a promise that daylight would return after a long, dark night. 

In the room’s darkness, Steve could see the dragonstones glowing from the bed, surrounding Tony with beams of red, yellow, green, blue, and –

Orange?

“The mindstone...” Steve murmured, gazing reverently at the latest addition to Tony’s hoard. 

Having heard Steve, Pietro left his sister’s side and walked over. “It’s a token of our gratitude,” the young prince explained. “We would have offered it to you sooner, but there was work that had to be done.” 

Steve nodded in understanding, well aware that the twins had taken advantage of Thanos’ retreat to right some of his wrongs, and that the mindstone had been instrumental in liberating the humans under the monster’s control. 

“It was very brave – what you’ve done,” Steve said, impressed by their accomplishments over the last few days. 

Pietro shook his head, denying the compliment. “There’s blood on our hands,” he explained with grave eyes and a solemn face. “It’s the least we can do.” 

“It is more than what others would have tried. You will make a fine king,” Steve said, pledging to back the young man’s claim to the throne, as was his birthright.

“Thank you,” Pietro said. “This means a lot, coming from you.”

Steve nodded, moving closer to the young man. “And as king, you will need your own collection of heirlooms,” he pointed out, thinking of his own sapphire ring and the curved dagger that the twins had returned to Howard on their first meeting. 

“The mindstone,” Steve continued, pausing again to admire its unique hue. “It’s been in your family for generations.”

Pietro shrugged. “It’s a stone,” he said. “A powerful stone, which has helped us to free some of our people, but it tore our kingdom apart. Our father was killed for it.”

Steve could feel the pain bleeding out of those words. “My heart is broken for your loss,” he offered. 

Pietro’s face hardened and for a moment, he looked older than his eighteen years. “My heart is full of hate,” he said, a trail of smoke leaving his mouth as he spoke through clenched teeth. 

His expression softened at the sight of Tony. “If not for Prince Anthony, and you, I would have lost the last of my family, more precious than all the riches of the world. I am in your debt. If there is the slightest chance that the mindstone will aid Prince Anthony’s recovery, we will be honoured if you accept.” 

“Besides,” Pietro continued, “knowing the mindstone is safe, with you, allows us to focus on avenging our father’s death. I would hate to lose the stone – to him.” 

Steve frowned at the words, for _that_ was the one thing he never understood. Already, Thanos was the most powerful dragon in the realm, so why was his heart set on that last stone?

“He was going to use the Infinity Spell,” Pietro said, answering the unspoken question, “to end the human race.”

The words pierced through the light fog that lingered around his head, and Steve looked up sharply. “The Infinity Spell?” he repeated. “I thought it was a legend.” 

“That it might be, but all legends ring with truth. The Infinity Spell was last used a hundred thousand years ago. It’s no wonder that it has begun to fade from our stories,” Pietro said, and went on to tell of the goddess Azura and how she’d used the Infinity Spell to prevent a world-ending solar storm. 

It was inspiring to think about what the stones could do, but all Steve could focus on was something far closer to home. “Do you – do you know how?” he asked, interrupting Pietro’s story. 

“How to invoke the spell?” Pietro asked. 

Steve nodded as his own heart began to race. 

“It requires at least one of each type of dragonstone – of that I’m sure. I don’t know the details, but Lord Strange or one of the Asgardians might be able to enlighten you on that.”

Feeling lightheaded, Steve had to take a steadying breath. “Excuse me a moment,” Steve said apologetically, and Pietro nodded politely in response. Without waiting for another word, Steve hurried toward Lord Strange and the other sorcerers on the other side of the room. 

“The Infinity Spell,” he gasped, his breaths quickening, and Bruce had to hold him steady to keep him from falling. 

The Sorcerer Supreme raised a brow, waiting patiently for an elaboration of some sort.

“The Infinity Spell. With the dragonstones. Thanos was going to use it. Can we - can we use it too – for Tony?” he asked. 

Strange hummed thoughtfully, and opened a portal leading to some sort of library. He slipped his hand inside and pulled a book off one of many shelves and into the bedroom.

Steve had to clasp his hands tightly together to prevent himself from snatching the book out of Lord Strange’s hands. The sorcerer, as if oblivious to his inner turmoil, leafed through the pages at an infuriatingly slow pace and when he came to a pause, brows furrowed in concentration, Steve thought he would pass out from the suspense.

Straining his eyes in the darkness, Steve could see the illustrations of lustrous gems painted in the colours of the rainbow, but the words were small and foreign to his eyes. With a wave of his hand, Lord Strange turned what looked like ancient symbols into High Valorian, which Steve was familiar with, before placing it into his trembling palms. 

Steve held the tome up to the light of a candle and began to read the words – those words that ignited a spark of hope. “You can wish for anything you want?” he breathlessly asked as warmth began to spread to the rest of his body.

Lord Strange looked thoughtful. “I suppose one would have to be as specific as possible, so as to eliminate any ambiguity.” 

“Yes, of course,” he said, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice by then. The others, confused by his behaviour, just looked at him with concern, like he had lost his mind. 

“Steve,” Bruce finally said, as he gently took his arm. “I know how much Tony means to you. And while Tony now has five dragonstones, we’re still missing one. We could go on a hunt, but you’re still recovering. You’re in no condition for a quest.”

Thor nodded. “Verily, you are not,” he said, putting his arm around Steve’s shoulder. “Steven, my friend, you are brave and strong, loyal and true. I’d travel the world to bring it to you. Allow me to undertake this quest for the elusive stone on your behalf. My only fear is we are running out of time. If only we knew where it was,” the Thunder God mused.

“Verily, we do,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! It was initially a 10,000-word chapter that took me forever to edit. I've decided to split it up now. The second part is almost done so I hope to post it soon-ish. I'm really sorry for how long this is taking. I really am trying my best but it's just super hard to write. Thank you so much for being so patient! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


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